


Family Ties

by thehipsterkiwi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 116,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehipsterkiwi/pseuds/thehipsterkiwi
Summary: Everyone needs a father figure; someone to look up to, learn from, share adventures with. After the disappearance of her father, Rosalind Arcturus Black never got that chance. Her life is one adventure to another as she searches for the truth about her fathers disappearance, and tries to redeem her family name.





	1. Prologue

Kreacher waited by the front door, watching his Master through the slightly ajar entrance to the parlor. The wiry man was watching the autumn leaves spiral down the the tree’s, barely visible in the twilight. The ancient house of Black was eerily quiet, except for the subtle creaking of wood, and the humming of a lullaby drifting down from the second landing. 

“Kreacher?”

Kreacher took a deep breath as he walked into the parlor. “Yes, Master?”

His master sighed heavily. Though he didn’t turn around, his eyes shifted so he could look at Kreacher's reflection in the mirror. “Are you certain you’re ready to go back?”

“Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of-”

“That’s not an answer.”

Kreacher shook his head in confusion. “Kreacher does not understand, Master.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity before Kreacher’s Master turned around, kneeling down so that he could look Kreacher in the eyes. Kreacher couldn’t hold back a swallow of fear as his Master let out another sigh.

“Kreacher,” Master spoke slowly and deliberately, “are you certain you’re ready to go back?”

Kreacher clenched his wrinkled fists to keep them from trembling. “Kreacher is ready to help Master however Kreacher can.”

The creaking of footsteps coming down the rickety stairs caused both Master and Kreacher to look out of the parlor. 

“You’re dismissed, Kreacher,” Master gave a small smile as Mistress came into the parlor, her green eyes weary with sleep as she meekly smiled back at her husband. “Stay at the ready, we’ll be leaving soon.”

Kreacher nodded and hobbled out of the room, bowing to Mistress as he hobbled past her. She smiled kindly down at the house elf as he left the parlor, and closed the door after him. Her husband didn’t say a word as she walked over to the window and leaned on the edge.

“When are you going to tell me where you’re going, Reg?”

The wind outside picked up as Regulus shook his head. “I don’t want to put you two in danger. With the war afoot, it will be safer for you-”

“It would be safer for us if you didn’t leave your family to play hero!” Primrose snapped, crossing her arms. “We’re married, we have a son, and our unwavering loyalty to the Dark Lord, as well as our blood status, puts us in high regards with him! Don’t throw all that aside.”

“Prim, don’t you see?” Regulus fell to his knees, his voice hoarse. “I have to do this. I have to save our son.”

“Then stay with him,” Primrose kneeled down in front of him, placing her hand on her husband's cheek as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Stay with me.”

Regulus sighed, placing his hand on Primrose’s and holding it to his cheek. “I can’t pretend what happened didn’t happen.”

“Will you at least tell me what happened?” Primrose’s voice shook.

Regulus shook his head, bowing it slightly. “I can’t put you or Styg in any more danger than you’re already in.”

“How could we be in danger?”

Looking up at his wife, Regulus put his hand on her cheek. “Prim, if all goes well, you won’t be.”

Primrose couldn’t stop the shiver going up her spine as she looked into his brown, earnest eyes. “I trust you.”

Smiling slightly, Regulus leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, my darling Prim.”

Primrose grabbed hold of her husband and pulled him into a deep kiss, praying to whatever entity could hear her that it wouldn’t be their last, before standing up and going up the stairs to bed,

Regulus waited until her footsteps fade from the stairwell before standing up, and heading out to where Kreacher was waiting in the entrance hall.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher bowed deeply as Regulus pulled on his boots. “Is Master ready?”

“Almost, Kreacher,” Regulus sighed, looking down at the house elf in a drawn out moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Does Master require anything of Kreacher?” Kreacher ventured hesitantly, doubting the necessity of the question in his mind. Surely if Master Regulus needed anything, he would say so?

“You can’t tell Prim.”

“Master?”

Standing up straight so that he could look down at the house elf, Regulus hardened his gaze. “I, Regulus Arcturus Black, forbid you, Kreacher of the Noble House of Black, from ever telling Primrose Alexandra Rosier Black what happened leading up to tonight, as well as the outcome of tonight. You are forbidden to speak of it to her, even if I was to perish. Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell her. Do I make myself clear?”

Kreacher nodded slowly, his stomach tight. “Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Regulus gave one, sharp, nod. “Then, do you have the locket?”

Kreacher nodded, pulling the long chain out of his tattered rag pocket and handing it to his Master.

“Take me to the cave,” Regulus spoke the command in a barely audible whisper, and with a small bow and a snap of his fingers. Kreacher obeyed.

The stairs at the top of the landing creaked as Primrose made her way back down the stairs, drawing her arms around her as she sat down on the bottom step, and awaited her husbands return in the frosty September silence.


	2. The Hat Stall

The Hogwarts Express let out a whistle as is reached the edge of London, speeding up with a lurch that cause Rosalind to stumble and fall onto her knees, nearly dropping her trunk onto her feet. 

“Rosa, you klutz.”

“We can’t all be as perfect as you, Styg,” Rosalind retorted, standing up at tugging her trunk further down the train car. “What compartment are we going to, anyways?”

“That depends,” Stygian turned around, pushing his glasses up thoughtfully. “Would you like to find some other first years to nag, or tag along with my friends?”

“Hmm,” Rosalind scrunched her nose, pretending to think hard. “Do I want to meet potentially awesome and cool friends, or hang out with you and your friends, my incredibly lame future housemates?”

“Lay of, Ro, they’re not lame.”

“Right, because Slytherin house is known for its surplus of engaging celebrities and astute presences in wizard society.”

Stygian rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop a small smile from forming on his face. “So, you’re coming?”

“Sure,” Rosalind shrugged as they stopped in front of one of the compartments. “But I can’t promise I’ll be staying.”

“I would never expect you to,” Stygian grinned as he pulled open the compartment door and stepped inside. “Hey, guys. Enjoy your summer?”

“To an extent,” replied one of three boys inside the compartment. “Summer with Mother is never dull.”

“I got to spend a week with Crabbe and his family in Ireland,” gushed one of the other boys, elbowing the one next to him in the gut.

“I got to spend a week with Goyle and his family in Ireland!” Crabbe grinned and elbowed Goyle back in the gut. “Hey, Black, who’s that with you?”

“Everyone, this is— ”

“My name is Rosalind Arcturus Black,” Rosalind stepped forward and stuck her hand out, shaking hands with first Crabbe, then Goyle. “I’m a first year.”

“Lovely,” Goyle grinned and took her hand eagerly, his sweaty palm causing Rosalind to cringe.

The third boy in the carriage wrinkled his nose at her hand, looking questioningly at Rosalind’s brother.

“Yes, Blaise,” Stygian sighed as he sat shoved Rosalind’s trunk up onto the shelf, “She’s a pureblood.”

Looking smug, Blaise gave Rosalind two swift hand shakes before wiping his hand off on his pants.

“Pureblood?” A voice sounded from behind Rosalind as Blaise gave her two hesitant hand shakes. “Who’s this?”

“Draco,” Stygian’s face turned a light shade of pink as Rosalind turned to the newcomer. Draco was roughly the same height as Stygian, with shockingly blonde hair. Behind him, a brown haired girl with a pointed nose scowled at Stygian.

“Pleased to meet you,” Rosalind smiled sweetly, putting out her hand to the newcomers. “My name is Rosalind, I’m Stygians sister.”

“Charmed,” Draco sneered. With a sly glance at the girl behind him he took Rosalind's hand and, rather than shake it, bent down to give it a kiss. The students in the compartment laughed awkwardly as the girl turned beet red and gave a faint hearted chuckle, shooting daggers at Rosalind.

Shrugging, Rosalind sat down on the bench next to her brother, squished between him and the door.

“What are you looking at, Zabini?” Draco smirked at Blaise. “You hoping this pureblood will be the one for you?”

“We don’t even know if she’ll be in Slytherin yet,” Blaise retorted, shooting a glare at Rosalind. 

“Of course she’ll be in Slytherin,” Stygian retorted. “Both our mom and dad were Slytherins, there’s no way she’d be anywhere else.”

“So, she’s your full sister?” Blaise questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you implying something about my mother?” Rosalind hissed, standing up.

Blaise shrugged, leaning back. “All I’m saying is that no one found out about her pregnancy until after you father disappeared. And you don’t look anything like her, or your brother.”

“Maybe I took after my father,” Rosalind retorted.

“Fair point,” Blaise cocked his head questioningly. “But how would you know?”

“How would you?” Rosalind shot back, ready to unleash her rage, but Stygians hand on her shoulder got her to stop.

“Zabini,” Stygian turned to Blaise. “Our mother grieved for our father. She still does. There are photos of him all over her apartment, we see them every day. Without a doubt, Rosalind took after our fathers side of the family.”

Turning back to Rosalind, Stygian smiled. “Sit down, Rosa. You’re making a scene.”

Rosa returned the smile, thankful for her older brother. Both of them knew that she didn’t take after Regulus Black. Thanks to their mother, they had spent countless hours pouring over the family records at the ministry. Rosalind took after her father's side of the family, it was true, but she took after someone much worse than her brother. The only trait she got from her mother was Primrose’s shockingly green eyes.

Conversation continued, dull and uninspiring, until the candy lady with the trolley rolled by. Rosalind went ahead and purchased an abundance of pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, licorice wands, jelly slugs, and every flavor beans.

“Sure you’ve got enough?” Blaise stared, disgusted, as Rosalind took out a backpack and tucked the candy inside. 

“I’m sharing,” Rosalind replied, sliding open the door to the compartment. “See you guys at the sorting.”

“See you in the common room,” Draco smirked with a wink at Rosalind, and Stygian punched him in the arm.

Giving them a salute, Rosalind slammed the glass door of the compartment shut and ran off down the hall with a grin on her face. She had known her brothers friends were boring, but she had never expected them to be so two dimensional.

Entering the next car, Rosalind knocked twice on the first compartment door she passed, sliding it open without waiting for a response.

“Can we help you?” One of the girls in the center of the compartment of Ravenclaws turned to Rosalind. An aura of self obsession surrounded her, and the girls around her giggled.

“I’m a first year, Rosalind Black,” Rosalind stuck her hand out and smiled. “I’m looking for other first years.”

“Do we look like first years?” The Ravenclaw smirked and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Marrietta, be nice,” the Ravenclaw closest to Rosalind frowned at her friend before turning to Rosalind, shaking her hand. “My name is Cho, Cho Chang. None of us are first years, but there were some other first years grouping together a few compartments down.”

“Thanks, Cho,” Rosalind grinned before exiting the compartment. 

Further down the train car was a compartment with a few other nervous looking students, so Rosalind knocked and entered yet again. 

“Hey, are you first years?”

The first student grinned at her, dimples lighting up his freckled cheeks. “Sure are! I’m Colin, Colin Creevey!”

“I’m Rosalind,” Rosalind beamed as she sat down next to Colin in the compartment. “Rosalind Black.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Said Colin, nudging the student next to him. “This here is Harper, Harper Lee, and on the other side of him is Estelle Davis.”

Harper, a skinny kid with brown hair, looked at Rosalind but didn’t say anything, while Estelle managed a worried smile. 

“And who are you,” Rosalind looked at the final member in the compartment.

The blonde haired girl looked up from her magazine, pushing her Spectre Specs up her nose. “My name is Luna Lovegood.”

“How do you do?” Rosalind stuck her hand out to Luna, who looked at her curiously before taking it.

“I’m was doing quite well. You see, I had thought I had gotten rid of all my nargles earlier this morning, but it seems they’d just transferred over to you!”

Rosalind shot a look over at Colin, who shrugged in response.

“Anyone up for a game of exploding snap?” Harper grinned as he took out a box from the trunk over him.

The rest of the train ride the group gorged themselves on sweets and talked about school. None of them noticed as the sky outside the train grew dark, and more and more cloak cladded figures rushed past their compartment.

“Rosalind,” Luna spoke in a quiet voice as she grabbed hold of Rosa’s sleeve, “We ought to go to the restroom, and change into our robes.”

“We should,” Rosalind agreed and picked up her pack. “Estelle, you coming?”

Estelle flashed Rosalind a grateful smile as she grabbed a bundle of clothing and followed Rosalind and Luna out of the compartment.

“Do you know where the restroom is?” Rosalind queried, looking over at Estelle.

Estelle shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Luna nudged them both down the train car. “They say there’s one that way.”

“My Nargles?” Rosalind questioned, exchanging an amused look with Estelle.

“Don’t be silly,” Luna laughed, her voice light and airy. “The signs.”

Feeling embarrassed, Rosalind followed the signs for the restroom into the following train car, giggling Luna and Estelle trailing behind her. The three of them managed to put on their uniforms, Estelle helping Luna and Rosalind tie their Hogwarts tie, the three of them admiring themselves in the mirrors.

“How does the tie know what house colors to change into?” Luna queried, giving the tie a suspicious sniff.

“Magic, of course,” came a voice from the entrance of the restroom. 

The three girls turned around as a bushy haired girl came into the bathroom, trailed by a nervous looking red head.

“Hello!” Rosalind grinned at the newcomers, and Luna and Estelle muttered their greetings. “Who are you?”

“My name is Hermione Granger,” the newcomer smiled wryly down at them. “I’m a second year student.”

Hermione nudged the redhead, who gave a scared smile. “My name is Ginny, Ginny Weasley. First year.”

“Hello, Ginny,” Luna spoke softly, but smiled comfortably. 

“Hey, Luna,” Ginny’s face lit up with relief. “It’s nice to see someone familiar.”

“Want to come back to our compartment with us?” Rosalind offered as she picked up her bag. “There are other first years there with us.”

Ginny looked at Hermione, as if asking for permission.

“Don’t look at me,” Hermione laughed, “I’m going to look for Harry and your brother with Neville. Go on if you want to.”

Ginny smiled at Hermione before taking Luna by the arm and dragging her out of the bathroom. Giggling, Rosalind and Estelle followed.

Once the train arrived at Hogsmeade station, the first years loaded into the boats and sailed smoothly across the lake.

“Bet you a sickle I’ll find the giant squid!” Colin Creevey called out to the girls from the boat next to theirs, where he was seated with Harper and Ginny.

“I’ll take that bet!” Ginny laughed from beside him, giving Colin a light shove towards the edge of the boat.

“Are you crazy?” Harper moaned as the boat rocked, sending a wake out towards the surrounding boats.

Ginny shrugged. “He said he wanted to find the squid, didn’t he?”

Rosalind laughed at gave Ginny a salute from her boat, and to her surprise, the redhead saluted back.

“Hey, Ginny!” Rosalind ran ahead of her boatmates Estelle and Luna to catch up to Ginny, matching her pace as they traipsed up the castle steps.

“Hey,” Ginny grinned back. “Rosalind, right?”

Rosalind smiled. “My friends call me Rosa. My brother calls me Ro.”

“Am I a friend?”

“You’re certainly not my brother.”

Ginny laughed, stopping alongside the other first years at the doors to the entrance hall. “So, what house do you think you’ll be in?”

“Probably Slytherin,” Rosalind sighed with a shrug. “My whole family came from Slytherin.”

“Really?” Ginny blinked in surprise. “You don’t seem like a Slytherin.”

Rosalind shrugged. “Not much I can do about that. What about you?”

“Oh,” Ginny smirked and tugged on her red hair. “Gryffindor, of course. My entire family is or was in it.”

“Is?”

“I have six older brothers,” Ginny said with a pained smile. “It’s not as fun as everyone assumes it would be.”

“Merlin, six?” Rosalind shook her head. “I have trouble with just the one.”

The giant doors before them opened up, revealing a stern looking witch with a large, pointed hat.

“My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall,” she spoke clearly as she surveyed the assembled first years. “I am deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Transfiguration teacher, and head of Gryffindor house. If you would follow me into the Great Hall, we can begin the sorting ceremony.”

Nervous whispers circulated throughout the gathered first years as they followed Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall, Estelle slipping over to Rosalind and nudging her in the arm excitedly.

The sheer size of the hall daunted Rosalind as her eyes took in the four house tables, the elegant banners, the floating candles, and the enchanted ceiling. Looking up, it was too easy to forget you were indoors. 

Rosalind was so entranced by her surroundings that she hardly noticed Professor McGonagall calling her name. It took a stomp on the foot from Ginny to finally get her to look up at the front of the room, where the infamous sorting hat was perched on a solitary stool.

“Miss Black, we don’t have all night,” Professor McGonagall tutted as Rosalind’s cheeks grew warm, and she hastily made her way to the front of the hall. 

Climbing up the steps, Rosalind sat down precariously on the edge of the stool, her feet pointed expectantly towards the Slytherin table. Looking down the row of green robes, Rosalind made eye contact with Stygian, and he shot her an encouraging thumbs up. Smiling back, Rosalind sat up straight and proud as the battered hat was lowered onto her head.

_ Well, well, well. Another Black, eh? _

You seem awful quick to generalize me.

_ Well aren’t you a witty one? _

I just prefer not to be stereotyped by a relic.

_ Perhaps you could consider that I would rather not be stereotyped as a relic? _

Touche.

_ Well, Hufflepuff is definitely not right for you. _

Was it ever an option?

_ You would be surprised. After all, your own uncle considered it. _

My family has always consisted of pure Slytherin blood. 

_ Yes, but I sense something different about you. You don’t take after your immediate family, do you? _

I don’t look like mom or dad, no.

_ Of course, but I think you have more in common with your fathers side of the family then you think. _

What do you mean?

“Better be…”

Rosalind gulped visibly as the hat paused again; she could feel it scrunched up in concentration atop her head. Around her students were whispering, confused by the lull in the hats speech, but when Rosalind shot a glance back at the teachers, Dumbledore and McGonagall seemed unconcerned.

_ Merlin's Beard, you’re quite a puzzle. _

What’s wrong? Am I doing something I shouldn’t be?

_ You’re doing everything fine. _

So what’s the holdup?

There was a pause, and then the hat rustled on Rosalind's head.

“Better be…” 

The hat paused again.

Rosalind shared an anxious glance with Stygian, who in return sent her a very panicked thumbs up. Ginny and Colin were watching her worriedly from the gangle of first years in front of her, while Harper and Estelle whispered to each other, and they weren't alone. The entirety of the Great Hall seemed to buzz with whispers as students from every house watched Rosalind with anticipation.

_ What do you want from your education? _

To learn, make friends, live my life. Just put me in Slytherin, what’s taking you so long?

_ Ah, yes. Slytherin, your ancestral house. You could be great, and Slytherin could help you along the way, without a doubt. But… _

But what?

_ But do you really want to be in Slytherin? _

I thought I did… Now I’m not so sure.

“Better be…”

Stygian stood up at the Slytherin table and slammed his fist onto the wood, glaring up at the hat. “Come on!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Rosalind made horrified eye contact with Stygian as the sorting hat was lifted off of her head, and her tie flashed gold and red.


	3. Minerva McGonagall

Breakfast in the Great Hall was an interesting affair. Aside from the many glares she got from the Slytherin table, there was also Ginny’s reaction to the infamous Harry Potter, her older brother Ron receiving a howler, and the distribution of class schedules.

“That can’t be right, Rosa,” Estelle queried, pushing her round glasses up her nose. “How come you’re in second year Transfiguration?”

“My mother had me tutored in the magical arts over the course of the past year.” Rosalind winced away from her friends questions, rolling her schedule up and putting it in her bag. “I also have second year Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Charms.”

“Is everyone in your family as big an egghead as you?” Colin teased, taking a spoonful of porridge.

“I’m not even that bad,” Rosalind defended herself, ears growing red. “My brother, Stygian? He’s the know-it-all.”

“Has he talked to you since the sorting?” Ginny asked, her voice unusually soft as she looked up the table to where her own brother was sitting with his friends.

“Not yet,” Rosalind sighed, picking unenthusiastically at her breakfast. “I’ll have to corner him later.”

After a dull introductory class to History of Magic, the Gryffindor first years returned to the great hall for a light lunch. Rosalind wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, so she went out into the courtyard with Colin for a game of gobstones.

“Did you hear Ginny talking about Harry Potter at breakfast?” Colin gushed, throwing down his stone.

“Don’t remind me,” Rosalind moaned, making a move. “I doubt she’ll ever stop talking about him.”

“He’s not so bad,” Colin argued, looking strangely at her. “At least, I hope not. Hey, think he’d let me get a photo with him?”

“I don’t see why not,” Rosalind smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t you ask him later?”

“No can do,” Colin stood up, bouncing in place as he took out a muggle camera from his bag. “I’ve got enough drive to go now!”

Rosalind watched, flabbergasted, as Colin walked across the courtyard to where Harry Potter was sitting with his friends, and introduced himself. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but the desperate look on Harry Potter’s face as Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart joined their circle was worth all the jelly slugs in Honeydukes. For a split second she thought Harry Potter was looking right at her, but she blinked and the illusion was over.

Waving goodbye to Colin from across the courtyard, Rosalind walked over to Lockhart’s classroom as the final bell went off. She joined the flood of students trickling into the classroom, and found herself sitting down in the front row, near the teacher’s desk. On her left was a confused looking second year, and on her right was an empty space.

“Now, now,” Professor Gilderoy Lockhart chuckled as people milled around, looking for seats. “Harry, that won’t do!”

The class turned back to where Harry was sitting with his friends.

“I want you near me, at the front of the room!” Lockhart gestured towards the empty seat next to Rosalind, and she tried not to groan.

Harry Potter turned red as he gathered his books and walked to the front of the class, plopping down next to Rosalind and heaving a sigh. Looking past her, he nodded to the other boy in their row. “Hey, Neville.”

“Hey, Harry,” Neville managed a meek smile at Harry, but it fell from his face as he briefly made eye contact with Rosalind. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but Neville was looking past her, fearful eyes fixed on Professor Lockhart.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom’s copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front. 

“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!” 

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly. 

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in —” 

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes — start —now!” 

Rosalind looked down at her paper and read: 

  1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color? 
  2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition? 
  3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date? 



“For the love of Merlin,” Rosalind groaned as she flipped through the three full pages of Lockhart oriented questions. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry look over at her, and chose to ignore him. Instead of answering the test questions, she opted to draw an intricate drawing of a fairy over the entirety of the from page.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. Rosalind had all but lost interest at this point, and took out her transfigurations book, reading it in her lap. It wasn’t until Lockhart bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it, that Rosalind started paying attention.

“Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”  
On Rosalind's right, Harry Potter leaned forward slightly in anticipation, a drastically different reaction from the boy on her left, Neville, who was cowering into the corner.

“I must ask you not to scream,” said Lockhart in a low voice. “It might provoke them.”

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

“Yes,” he said dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

One of the students couldn’t control themselves. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn’t mistake for a scream of terror. 

“Yes?” He smiled at him.

“Well, they’re not — they’re not very —dangerous, are they?” he choked.

“Don’t be so sure!” said Lockhart, wagging a finger annoyingly at the student. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them. 

“Right, then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!” 

And he opened the cage. It was pandemonium. 

The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling. Rosalind barely managed to stuff her books into her bag and dove under her seat for cover.

“Come on now — round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted. 

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, “Peskipiksi Pesternomi!” 

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way. 

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Hermione, and Rosalind, who were almost at the door, and said, “Well, I’ll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.” He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.  

“Can you believe him?” bristled Rosalind as one of the remaining pixies bit her painfully on the ear. 

“He just wants to give us some hands-on experience,” said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage. 

“Hands on? “said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. “Hermione, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing —” 

“Rubbish,” said Hermione. “You’ve read his books — look at all those amazing things he’s done —” 

“He says he’s done,” Rosalind muttered with a glance over at the older students.

Hermione sighed and froze the last of the pixies, but Harry managed to give her a small smile.

“You’re the hatstall, aren’t you?”

Rosalind snorted as the three of them headed out of the classroom. “Is that what they’re calling me? Just a hatstall?”

Hermione muttered something about finding Ron and ran off ahead of Harry and Rosalind.

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry Potter admitted, watching his friend run ahead. “But whenever there’s some gossip that’s not related to me, I take the time to enjoy it.”

“Don’t expect it to last,” Rosalind laughed, nodding back toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. “I can’t help but think that some people want to change that.”

“Right,” Harry Potter winced, but he was smiling as he looked at Rosalind. “Where are you off to?”

“Second year Transfiguration,” Rosalind replied without needing to look at her schedule. 

“How come you get to skip an entire level?”

“Tutoring,” she shrugged. “Mother got her boss to write an appeal to Dumbledore, and he agreed to make it work.”

Harry Potter nodded, pausing as the reached the gaggle of students outside outside the transfiguration classroom. 

“By the way,” Rosalind stuck her hand out, “I’m Rosalind Arcturus Black.”

“Harry James Potter,” Harry took her hand and gave it a shake, “But you knew that.”

“Careful, now,” Rosalind teased as she walked towards the classroom. “No one likes a self-centered savior.”

Harry rolled his eyes and waved goodbye, walking over to his friends on the other side of the room, leaving Rosalind to find herself a desk. 

“Good afternoon, students.”

All eyes turned towards the front of the room as Professor McGonagall stood up from her desk. Her eyes lingered on Rosalind for a moment, and she made a note on the paper in front of her before surveying the rest of the class.  

“Do refrain from making yourselves comfortable,” she said, pulling out her wand. “I have prepared a seating arrangement, as to enhance the classes productivity.”

With a flick of her wrist, name tags materialized out of thin air, two per a desk. The class let out a simultaneous groan, but no one complained as everyone walked around the classroom, searching for their names.

Rosalind found her names on a desk near the front of the room, and snuck a look at her desk mate.

“Harry Potter!” she called out to the wizard, waving him over.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Harry shook his head, sitting down and casting a look behind him at his friends. 

“Oh, I’m sure Professor McGonagall specifically plotted with Gilderoy Lockhart to have the two of us sit by each other in their classes,” Rosalind rolled her eyes at Harry with a grin, taking out her quill and a roll of parchment. “After all, they seem incredibly fond of each other.”

Harry snorted but didn’t say anything as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the class to the front of the room.

“Welcome,” she began, eyes slowly surveying the class, “to Second year Transfiguration class. I expect each of you to be in your seats, quills at the ready, by the start of every class. Today, we will be reviewing common transfigurations from the previous school year, and take a quiz on the Transfiguration Alphabet.”

The class let out an audible groan as Professor McGonagall flicked her wrist, summoning a blackboard to the front of the room.

“Now, now,” she tutted with an amused look at the students. “This will be a popcorn quiz.”

Rosalind shot a confused look at Harry, who shrugged in response.

“Miss Parvati Patil!” 

One of the Gryffindors in the back of the room stood up, nervously playing with her long, black braid.

“What is the incantation you would use to transfigure your target into a bird?”

Parvati bit her lip nervously, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Avifors?”

Professor McGonagall gave her a nod, and Parvati sank into her seat with a sigh of relief.

“Mister Longbottom!”

Neville stood up quickly, his chair scraping the stone floor with a deafening squeak. “Y-yes Professor?”

“What is the wand movement used to cast Avifors?”

Next to Neville, Hermione’s left hand shot up into the air eagerly, while her right hand scribbled something down onto her parchment.

“In a moment, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall held up her hand to the eager second year.

Neville snuck a glance at Hermione’s parchment. “Is it, a figure eight?”

“Just any figure eight?” Professor McGonagall coaxed, looking pointedly at Neville.

Hermione jumped up, unable to contain her excitement. “A sideways figure eight!”

Professor McGonagall sniffed. “Correct, Miss Granger. However, I do not condone shouting out in my classroom, and would hate to have to take points away from my own house.”

Hermione sat down, her face turning pink. Professor McGonagall smiled kindly at her for just a moment, before resuming her stern gaze. She took a moment to look around the classroom for her next target, before settling on Rosalind.

“Miss Black.”

Rosalind took a deep breath before standing up straight. It took most of her willpower to stop her legs from trembling as Professor McGonagall gazed at her intently.

“Recite the transfiguration formula.”

The class broke into quite giggles and mutters as the second years watch Rosalind. Hermione’s hand immediately shot into the air, where it waved frantically.

“That’s a hard one,” Parvati Patil’s whisper from the back of the room caused Rosalind to scoff.

“The transfiguration formula,” Rosalind stood up straight and spoke out loud as she held Professor McGonagalls gaze. “The intended transformation is directly influenced by bodyweight (a), viciousness (v), wand power (w), concentration (c), and a fifth unknown variable (Z).”

The class stared silently at Professor McGonagall, waiting to see if the first year had gotten it right. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalind saw Hermione slowly lowering her raised hand.

“Well, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall didn’t take her eyes of Rosalind as she addressed the other student. “Did Miss Black say the correct answer?”

“She did,” Hermione said in a flat voice, but she was staring at Rosalind curiously.

Professor McGonagall nodded once. “Indeed. Have a seat Miss Black.”

“How did you know that?” Harry whispered as she sat down onto the bench with a dull thud. 

“How do you not?” Rosalind teased back, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands. “That’s first level transfiguration, Harry Potter.”

“Oh, and Miss Black?”

Both Rosalind and Harry sat up straight as Professor McGonagall called her name.

“Yes, Professor?”

“See me after class, please.”

Rosalind's face fell, and she looked down at her empty roll of parchment. Was she in trouble for talking? As Professor McGonagall continued quizzing students, she took frantic notes, ignoring Harry Potter. When they were reviewing turning beetles into buttons, Rosalind made hers as intricate as possible when Professor McGonagall came around to examine them, looking up at the woman for a sign of approval. But Professor McGonagall merely glanced at the button before continuing surveying the rest of the class.

When the bell finally rang for the class to end, the seconds years began filing out of the room, anxious to get to the great hall for dinner.

“Want us to wait for you?” Harry Potter offered as Rosalind tucked away her book and scroll into her bag.

“No, it’s ok,” Rosalind shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to hold up you and your friends.”

“Are you sure?” Harry blinked, and Rosalind look up at him. Green eyes met green eyes for a split second, and she looked away quickly.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Well, alright.” Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and walked away with a wave. 

He walked up the Ron and elbowed him in the side, and the three of them headed out of the classroom with the others. Hermione’s urgent, “Who is she?” echoed back to Rosalind as she walked up to Professor McGonagalls desk, where the Professor was looking over a scroll of parchment.

“You wanted to see me, Professor McGonagall?” Rosalind tried not to let her nervousness show in her voice as her sweaty palms played anxiously with the ends of her robes. 

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, and a chair pulled up next to Rosalind. “Have a seat, Miss Black.”

Rosalind took a deep breath as she sat down on the edge of the seat, gripping the ends of her robes. “Professor, am I in trouble?”

Professor McGonagall looked up at her, amusement in her eyes. “Whyever would you think that, Miss Black?”

Rosalind only shrugged, focusing hard on the inkwell on the Professor's desk. 

Professor McGonagall shook her head, but smiled as she spoke to Rosalind. “Miss Black, I simply wanted to congratulate you. It’s not often a first year manages to advance an entire year in three subjects.”

“My brother managed to do more,” Rosalind sighed, not looking up from the inkwell.

“Yes, your family seems to be an exception,” Professor McGonagall agreed with the slightest of chuckles. “Regardless, I simply wanted to ask you if you are certain you are ready for second year transfiguration.”

“You don’t think I can do it,” Rosalind looked up, taking the challenge personally.

“I must admit,” Professor McGonagall admitted, sitting back in her chair, “I had some concerns placing a first year in a second year course. That was why I asked you for the transfiguration formula.”

“I seemed to manage it just fine,” Rosalind huffed, crossing her arms.

“It would be unfortunate if we had no choice but to take away house points if you were unable to keep up,” Professor McGonagall raised an expectant eyebrow at Rosalind.

“It would be,” Rosalind agreed, putting her crossed arms up on the Professor's desk. “It’s a good thing you won;t need to do that.”

“Indeed,” Professor McGonagall leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk and leaning down till she was at eye level with Rosalind. “Miss Black, I think you’ll do just fine in this class.”

Rosalind smirked up at Professor McGonagall. “So do I.”


	4. Nightmares and Daydreams

The closer the castle drew to Halloween, the more excited everyone seemed to get, and the less sleep the first year Gryffindor girls started to get. 

It started out as something that happened only once a week, but soon enough it was twice, then thrice, until almost every night of the week, Estelle and Rosalind would wake up in the middle of the night to comfort a sobbing or frightened Ginny Weasley.

“Rough night, eh?” Colin greeted, sitting down across from Rosalind and Estelle at the breakfast table.

“Third night in a row,” Rosalind moaned, rubbing her tired eyes. 

Estelle looked up from where she was playing with her porridge. “I understand homesickness, but this is getting out of hand.”

“Morning!” Ginny Weasley ran over to the group, her face lighting up at the sight of them all.

Colin shared a glance with Rosalind as she sunk down onto the table, resting her chin on the flat surface.

“What’s going on with you?” Ginny smiled at Rosalind as she sat down next to Colin, heaping the plate in front of her with eggs.

“You are,” Rosalind sighed, sitting up straight. “Ginny, I love you, you know that.”

Ginny nodded, her face falling as she looked into Rosalind’s lusterless, sleep deprived eyes. 

“Maybe getting a sleeping potion from Madame Pomfrey would help in this situation?” Rosalind raised her eyebrows beggingly at Ginny.

Ginny stared down at her eggs. “I…”

Estelle and Rosalind shared a glance before reaching forward, putting their hands on top of Ginny’s. 

“I don’t want to be a problem for you guys.” Ginny finally said hoarsely. “Of course, I’ll see if I can get something from Madame Pomfrey today after classes are out.”

Rosalind and Estelle let out sighs of relief, and Collin gave Ginny a thump of encouragement on the shoulder. She managed to shoot them all a smile before stuffing her face with breakfast. 

“Rosa!”

The first years all looked up, Ginny nearly choking on her food as Harry Potter came over to them, Ron and Hermione in tow.  

“You guys have any plans tonight?” Harry asked, looking over the group of first years.

“Harry Potter!” Colin’s grin took over three quarters of his face as he looked up at the second year. “We were going to come down to the Halloween feast, Harry! Why do you ask? You wanna join us, huh, Harry?”

“Told you they’d be going,” Ron elbowed Harry in the side. “Come on, let them enjoy it, at least.”

“Um, alright,” Rosalind raised a confused eyebrow at Harry. “What’s going on?”

Hermione gave a casual wave of her hand. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Nearly Headless Nick is having a Deathday party,” Harry looked pained as he looked back to Rosalind. “But we won’t make you guys come. Somebody ought to enjoy the Halloween feast.”

“Harry Potter, your humility is humbling.” Rosalind rolled her eyes, grinning at him. “See you guys in class, then?”

Harry nodded, giving Rosalind one wave of his hand before heading out behind Hermione and Ron, whispering something into Ron’s ear. 

“Rosa!” Collin lunged across the table and grabbed Rosalind by her collar, knocking over her flagon of pumpkin juice.

“Collin, my juice!” Rosa spluttered out as he leaned over the table and brought her to his eye level.

“How could you reject an opportunity to spend an evening with Harry Potter?!” Collin cried out, Ginny nodding along behind him, her face as red as her hair.

“I want to go to the Halloween feast!” Rosalind objected, wrenching herself free and frowning at Collin. “Collin, you’ve made a mess.”

“Rosalind never said she wouldn’t go,” Estelle objected. “And they didn’t formally invite us, they asked if we were busy. They never officially asked us to come.”

Rosalind smiled at Estelle as she took out her wand, pointing it at the pumpkin juice. “Scourgify.” 

“I can’t believe you would take this opportunity away from Ginny,” Collin huffed, crossing his arms as the pumpkin juice vanished from the table. 

Ginny thumped her hand onto the table and turned to Collin with a dead stare. “Excuse me?”

Rosalind and Estelle exchange excited looks as some of the other students at the table turned around to watch the redhead.

“You have something to say, Collin?” Ginny spoke in an even tone, but her eyes were fiery.

“I’m just saying,” Collin backtracked quickly, “I mean, what I meant was-”

“You better choose your next words carefully,” Ginny slowly drew her wand out of her robe and twirled it between her fingers. “I’ve been able to perform the bat-bogey hex for three years, and now that I’m allowed to do magic it’s only gotten stronger. Don’t use me to cover up your fangirl crush, Collin.”

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil let out hoots as Estelle and Rosalind stood up, clapping wildly. Ginny turned to the girls and bowed before standing up from the table, and making her way out of the hall.

“What was that?” Rosalind asked, breathless, as she and Estelle managed to catch up to the flaming ginger.

“Who was that?” Estelle laughed, linking arms with Ginny.

Ginny looked at them, grinning, eyes sparkling. “When you grow up with five older brothers, you learn a thing or two.”

Giggling, the three of them headed out of the great hall, towards class.

The great hall for that evening's feast was something out of a nightmare, but in the best way possible. The groundskeeper, Hagrid, had his enormous pumpkins carved and displayed throughout the hall, some on the floor and others hovering in midair. Swarms of live bats were fluttering across the enchanted ceiling, eclipsing the moon with their dark wings and casting eerie shadows over the gathered students. The stone gargoyles lining the halls of the hall seemed to have turned a dark grey, their eyes following students across the hall with a red glare. The feast itself was delicious, and more than festive, with many flavors of fall in every dish. Rosalind couldn’t get enough of the chicken baked in apples, and Colin wouldn’t stop gawking at the amount of food she managed to chow down.

“Ginny!” Rosalind waved eagerly as the first year entered the hall towards the end of dessert, hair rumpled. “Where were you?”

“We were worried about you,” Collin added, scooting down the table to make room for Ginny between him and Rosalind. 

“Sorry, guys” Ginny rubbed her eyes as Rosalind began to heap her plate with different pumpkin and apple pudding. “I feel like I just woke up.”

“Must have been that potion from Pomfrey,” Estelle smiled kindly from across the table, raising her mug of hot pumpkin juice in acknowledgement. “Glad you got some sleep, Gin.”

“If you’re hungry we can get your brothers to bring you food,” Rosalind teased Ginny with a nudge towards the twins. Further up the table Fred and George were laughing as their friend Lee Jordan corralled his pet spider down the table towards their Quidditch teammates. They barely managed to save the poor spider from Angelina Johnson’s wrath.

The candlelight in the hall dimmed as Dumbledore rose from his seat at the teachers table, giving the band to the left of the table a pointed look. A spotlight illuminated his white beard as he took out his wand, and gave it a dramatic flourish. The spotlight separated into four lights, each one swirling around the room and leaving a trail of four more lights tailing behind it, before coming to a stopping point in between each of the house tables. 

Excited whispers filled the hall as bones clattered down from the source of the lights, assembling to form sixteen skeletons with top hats, four between each house table. Their skeletal grins opened and shut with a loud clack, and the band next to Dumbledore began to play an upbeat tune. 

Everyone started laughing and cheering as the skeletons began to tap dance, their heels clacking and snapping on the stone floor along to the beat of the music.

“I know this dance!” Rosalind shrieked to Ginny, the ginger looking at her with a surprised expression as Rosalind stood up, searching across the hall for her brother.

“How?” Ginny’s question was lost in the noise as Rosalind found her brother amongst his Slytherin friends, and her green eyes met his brown. Stygian gave a fervent shake of his head, his carefully combed black hair bouncing out of place. Rosalind put her hands on her hips, staring him down as the music began to pick up. Stygian looked over at his friend Draco before casting Rosalind a pleading look. 

“Move these plates,” Rosalind huffed, pushing everyone’s empty plates and utensils to her left and clambering on top of the Gryffindor table. 

“Rosa!” Estelle looked up at Rosalind, worry showing on her face as Rosalind shook her body, loosening up her muscles, still maintaining eye contact with Stygian. 

Down the table, Fred and George had noticed what was going on and began to clap along to the rhythm of the music, cheering her name as Rosalind started a simple ball dig, going along to the beat and raising a cocky eyebrow at Stygian as one of the spotlights shifted over to her. Members of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table were shrieking with laughter as Rosalind and the skeleton turned to face each other.

“Step heel!” Rosalind laughed, stepping towards the skeleton, delighted when he took a step back, and the two of them moved down the table as people rushed to pull their silverware away from their feet.

“Follow me!” Rosalind laughed as they reached the end of the table, doing a quick one-eighty and making her way back down the table. 

Shrieks from the other side of the hall got her attention, getting Rosalind to turn her head to see Stygian tapping along with a skeleton of his own on top of the Slytherin table. Brother and sister made eye contact, and Rosalind couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. 

Raising her eyebrow at her brother, Rosalind pointed towards the front of the room, and Stygian followed suit, shooting her a wink. They made their way down the table, a skeleton helping Rosalind down with a twirl, and ran up to the front of the hall, meeting up in the middle. Linking arms with Stygian, the skeletons following suit behind them, Stygian and Rosalind traveled left doing the double buffalo, then right, then back to the middle before splitting off and doing some freestyle. 

As the final verse of the song drew to a close, Rosalind took two tophats off of some skeletons, tossing one to Stygian. He caught it with a laugh, and the two of them finished by running up to the teachers table and leaping on top, striking poses as the song drew to a close.

The Great Hall erupted into thunderous applause, shrieks coming from nearly every house as Rosalind took a deep bow, barely noticing her foot standing in Professor Snape’s unfinished pudding. 

Stygian waved casually at the Slytherin table, laughing, before turning to Rosalind with a grin.

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me?” Rosalind blinked apologetically up at Stygian. “For not getting into Slytherin?”

“Oh, Rosa,” Stygian grinned and pulled her into a hug. “After that stunt you just pulled, there's no way you could be anything but Gryffindor.”

“Brilliant,” Rosalind grinned, hugging back for a moment before pushing him away, her nose wrinkling. “You smell terrible; have you been using the deodorant mom bought you?”

A cough from below them saved Stygian from answering as Professor Snape stood up from his seat, giving Rosalind's leg a meaningful prod with his wand.

“Whoops,” Rosalind grinned as she shook her foot loose of the pumpkin pudding. “Sorry, Uncle Sev.”

“Professor Snape, if you will, Miss Black,” Professor Snape sniffed as the dancing skeletons disassembled, and the applause began to die down.

“Being your goddaughter doesn’t warrant special treatment for you, but being my godfather warrants special treatment from me,” Rosalind teased, hopping down from the teachers table with Stygian to meet a grinning Professor Dumbledore.

“I must say,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the hall as the students cheering came to a halt. “I don’t believe any of us were expecting such an exciting contribution to this years feast. Fifty points to each of you, for a delightful show.”

Slytherin and Gryffindor erupted into applause again, but died down much faster as Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. 

“Let that bring the end to our Halloween feast!” He declared, grinning. “Now, off to bed, all of you!”

Rosalind turned to give Stygian a parting hug, cut short by a quiet cough from the Headmaster. 

“Yes, Headmaster?” Stygian pushed his round glasses up his nose worriedly as Dumbledore smiled kindly down at them.

“You are both welcome to keep those top hats,” he said with a wink as both Stygian and Rosalind reached up to touch the hats on their heads.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Rosalind smirked up at Dumbledore as he walked away, smiling.

“Walk you out the hall?” Stygian gestured towards the door, and Rosalind linked her arm through his, grinning.

Together, the two of them headed into the throng of students heading out of the hall, getting high fived and congratulated as they made their way out of the hall, grinning.

“Hey, Blacks!” 

Stygian got Rosalind to wait as Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise pushed through the throng to meet them. Rosalind smiled at Blaise, but he wrinkled his nose at her in response. 

“Who knew the bookworm could do something other than reading and writing?” Draco smirked, punching Stygian in the arm. “Impressive, mate.”

“Thanks!” Rosalind chirped up, staring Draco dead in the eyes. 

Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah. Good job.”

“I wouldn’t have thought a hatstall would have been able to move like that,” Blaise commented, falling in line on Rosalind's right side as the lot of them headed towards the grand staircase. 

“Maybe you could look past your scrunched up nose and see that I’m more than a hatstall,” Rosalind bristled, glaring at Blaise.

“I meant no offense,” Blaise said cooly, his face and tone flat, “just stating an observation.”

“What in Merlin's name?” Stygian slowed to a halt alongside the rest of the school as three silhouettes appeared down the hall, unmoving, and staring at the wall.

“Is that Potter?” Draco smirked, eyes narrowing. “That runt isn’t at the great.”

Stygian shot Draco a secretive look. “Maybe he— Hey! Rosa!”

Rosalind had broken free of Stygian and ran ahead of him to where Ginny and Collin had halted, not far from where Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing surrounded by a puddle of water.

“Ginny won’t stop shaking!” Collins concerns lingered at the edge of Rosa’s consciousness as she stared at the wall in front of her. Painted in dripping red letters were the words ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.’ Next to the writing hung Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, hanging by her tail, frozen and stiff as she stared at something no one else could see. 

Rosalind found her eyes searching out Harry Potter, who stared at her, the emotion in the green depths filling the deafening silence from the students around them. 

Then someone shouted through the quiet. “Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” 

Draco pushed through the crowd till he was standing next to Rosalind, a smirk on his face. She glared at him before turning away and going over to Ginny and Collin.

“Where’s Estelle?” Rosalind asked worriedly over the hushed chatter that had broken out amongst the gathered students.

“I don’t know,” Collin didn’t seem all too concerned about Estelle as he rubbed Ginny’s back. “We need to get her to the common room.”

Rosalind nodded, linking her arm through Ginny’s right arm while Colin took hold of her left, and the two of them guided their trembling friend around the edge of the crowd, and up to the Gryffindor common room.

Throughout the next few days, the students of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry could do little except talk about the attack on Mrs. Norris. Ginny was distraught by the event for reasons no one could explain, and spent a lot of time venting to her personal diary. Collin, Rosalind, and Estelle did their best to get her away from the black book and out of the common room, but with the weather taking a turn for the worst there was little much they could do.

Almost a week following the event, in charms class, Rosalind found herself spacing out from Flitwicks lecture, and instead reading over notes her deskmate, Hermione Granger, had scribbled in the corners of her parchment. 

“Why do you need ‘Hogwarts: A History’?” Rosalind whispered, getting a suspicious look from Hermione.

“Why do you need to know?” Hermione frowned, her eyebrows raised questioningly. 

Rosalind shrugged, “I have a copy of my own, or rather, my brother does. I could get it for you if you needed it.”

Hermione gave a small smile, and sighed. “Thanks, but I already found out what I needed.”

“Oh,” Rosalind nodded. “Alright then.”

Hermione nodded as Professor Flitwick left them to practice Engorgio, the enlargement charm, on apples perched on their desks.

“Why did you need it?” Rosalind chirped up, flicking her wand and successfully getting it to grow a square centimeter or two.

Hermione sighed and turned to Rosalind. “Listen, Rosalind, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“What?” Rosalind furrowed her eyebrows. “Where is this coming from?”

“I did a bit of reading on your family,” Hermione admitted, her apple growing in size slightly. 

“And you thought it was your place to make judgements about me based on my families history?” Rosalind frowned at her apple. 

“No, I just wanted to make sure Harry wasn’t befriending a dangerous person.”

“So, it’s up to you to decide if I’m a dangerous person or not? Based off of my family history?”

Hermione seemed tongue tied as she looked at Rosalind, shame painting her face.

“Listen, Hermione,” Rosalind turned to the older student. “If I were like my family, I wouldn’t be talking to you at all. I would be in Slytherin. And I probably would have looked down on you for being a mudblood.”

“Vile term,” Hermione muttered, her apple forgotten. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Rosalind nodded. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? You decided to judge me based on my family, not by my own actions. So you can take comfort in knowing I don’t look down on you because of your blood, but because you didn’t even give me a chance.”

The bell to end class rang, and Rosalind pointed her wand at her apple. “Engorgio!”

As the apple tripled in size, Rosalind shoved her scrolls unceremoniously into her bag and made her way out of the classroom, leaving a dumbstruck Hermione behind her.

“Hey, Rosa!” Harry Potter grinned as she marched past him, his smile faltering when he saw the irritated expression on her face. “You alright?”

“Harry Potter,” Rosalind sighed, dropping her head in embarrassment. “Your friends are thick headed.”

Ron shot Harry a worried look before heading back into the classroom to Hermione.

“What happened?” Harry Potter pressed, following Rosalind down the hallway. 

“I tried to talk, normally, with Hermione, and she said I wasn’t trustworthy,” Rosalind sighed, stopping in the hallway. “She doesn’t trust my family.”

“Why not?” Harry Potter looked at her, incredulous. 

Rosalind chewed on her lip. “Well, you could say that I’m supposed to be in Slytherin.”

Harry Potter stared at her, dumbstruck. 

“My entire family, basically, is made up of pureblood obsessed Dark Wizards,” Rosalind explained, refusing to look at Harry. “She doesn’t trust me based on their history. It’s fair, considering almost all of my family served the Dark Lord during his rise to power. But still, it would be nice to be judged for who I am.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Harry Potter placed a hand on Rosalind shoulder. 

“Can I tell you something?”

Rosalind looked up at the second year as his hand dropped from her shoulder, he refused to meet her gaze. 

“I’ve never told anyone else, but I was supposed to be in Slytherin, too,” Harry Potter gave a nervous swallow. “I had to argue with the sorting hat to be placed anywhere else.”

Rosalind looked at him, surprised. “I don’t see you as being a Slytherin.”

“And I don’t see you as being a Slytherin,” Harry Potter flashed her a look, a small smile on his face. 

“Alright,” Rosalind felt her face growing warm as the silence between them lingered.

“Good… good talk,” Harry Potter agreed, nodding sheepishly. Rosalind couldn’t help but giggle.

“Harry!” 

The two of them turned around to see Ron and Hermione heading down the hall towards them.

“Rosalind!” Hermione ran up to them, breathless and red in the face. “I, I’m sorry for saying what I said, but you need to understand that after everything Harry went through last year with Quirrell, I just wanted to be sure no one would be playing him again.”

Rosalind gave a sigh, looking down at her feet. “Well, is there anything I can do to prove myself to you?”

Hermione chewed her lip, glancing over at Rosalind. “There… there might be. You’re really smart for your age. Maybe… maybe you could help us with something.”

Rosalind looked at Harry and Ron, who were listening intently. “What are you lot up to?”

“I’ve been researching the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione explained, playing with her hair, nervously. “I needed that book to read over the myth, but I managed to convince Professor Binns to tell us about it during class yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Rosalind asked eagerly, leaning closer.

“You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.

“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.”

Hermione looked over at Rosalind, who was listening with wide eyes. 

“Reliable historical sources tell us this much,” she said. “But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

“Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.” 

Rosalind swallowed nervously. “What exactly did that mean, ‘the horror within the chamber’?”

“That’s… exactly what I asked,” Hermione looked at Rosalind, surprised. “They say that inside is a monster that can only be controlled by the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Terrifying,” Rosalind shivered as they drew to a halt next to the library. 

“Agreed,” Hermione purred. “Listen, you’re really smart for your age. Would you be interested in helping me research what this monster could be?”

Rosalind looked at her for a moment before nodding, a small smirk on her face. “If it’ll mean putting Ginny at ease and giving me a full night’s rest, gladly! Tell me, what’s the plan?”

The next day in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Rosalind and Ron had an ongoing passing of notes throughout the class. They were taking turns illustrating the wonderfully horrific presentation and lesson for the day; an interpretation of Gilderoy Lockhart’s defeat of Wagga Wagga Werewolf, starring Harry Potter as the villain.

“I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry,” urged Lockhart, nudging his accomplice.

Harry gave a half hearted groan.

“Higher than that — good,” Lockhart was cut off by the yip from Harry Potter that made Ron and Rosalind red in the face from the amount of self control it was taking to hold in their laughter. 

“The fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man.” Lockhart declared, taking a step back and bowing dramatically. “Simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.” 

The classroom broke into half hearted, scattered applause as the bell rang, and Lockhart grinned wildly at them.  “Homework — compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!” 

Rosalind stood up and leaned against her desk with Ron, the two of them snickering as Harry walked up to them looking quite defeated.

“Arooo,” Rosalind gave a small howl at Harry, and Ron couldn’t hold back a guffaw as Harry’s Potter’s face went red.

“Will you two focus?” Hermione snapped, watching the class file out slowly and bouncing nervously in place.

“Can we go now?” Harry asked, peering at where Lockhart was reading something over at his desk.

“Wait till everyone’s gone,” said Hermione nervously. “All right…” 

She approached Lockhart’s desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Rosalind, and Ron right behind her. 

“Er — Professor Lockhart?” Hermione stammered. “I wanted to — to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading.” She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. “But the thing is, it’s in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it — I’m sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms.” 

“Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!” said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely.  

“Oh, yes,” said Hermione eagerly. “So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea strainer —” 

“Well, I’m sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help,” said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. 

“Yes, nice, isn’t it?” he said, misreading the revolted look Ron and Rosalind exchanged. “I usually save it for book-signings.” 

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione. 

“So, Harry,” said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. “Tomorrow’s the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you’re a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don’t hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players…” 

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried out of the room, ushering Rosalind, Ron, and Hermione as he left. 

“I don’t believe it,” he said as the four of them examined the signature on the note. “He didn’t even look at the book we wanted.” 

“That’s because he’s a brainless git,” said Ron. “But who cares, we’ve got what we needed—” 

“He is not a brainless git,” said Hermione shrilly as they half ran toward the library. 

“Just because he said you were the best student of the year —” 

They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture. 

“Moste Potente Potions?” she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn’t let go. 

“I was wondering if I could keep it,” she said breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on,” said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. “We’ll get you another autograph. Lockhart’ll sign anything if it stands still long enough.” 

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty. 

“Where to now?” Rosalind asked quietly once they were safely away from the library.

“The first floor girls bathroom,” Hermione explained as they headed down the stairs. “Have you heard of Moaning Myrtle, one of the ghosts?”

Rosalind shook her head as the group headed past the scene of Mrs. Norris’s gruesome petrification; the stone was was still in the process of being cleaned, and half scrubbed red letters were visible in the murky light.

“You’re lucky,” Ron grunted as Hermione pushed open the door to the bathroom, taking a moment to glare at Ron before leading the four of them inside. 

The bathroom was nothing short of dreary. The mirrors were cracked and spotted, and the ancient stone sinks were chipped and cracked. Water stains covered the extent of the aged floor, illuminated by the murky light coming from the stubs of candles. 

“Dear Merlin,” Rosalind muttered as they set their book bags down on top of the sinks and sat down on the floor in a circle around the raggedy book Hermione was eagerly flipping through. Everyone was doing their best to ignore the weeping coming from one of the bathroom stalls.

“Here it is,” said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. 

“This is the most complicated potion I’ve ever seen,” said Rosalind as they scanned the recipe. 

“How many potions could a first year have seen?” Ron huffed, still irritated by the sobbing ghost in their presence.

“The Potions master is my godfather,” Rosalind said with a glare at Ron, his response silenced by Hermione’s muttering. 

“Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass,” she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. “Well, they’re easy enough, they’re in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves… Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn — don’t know where we’re going to get that — shredded skin of a boomslang — that’ll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into.” 

“Excuse me?” said Ron sharply. “What d’you mean, a bit of whoever we’re changing into? I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it —” 

Hermione continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “We don’t have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last…” 

Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who looked worried. “D’you realize how much we’re going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that’s definitely not in the students’ cupboard. What’re we going to do, break into Snape’s private stores? I don’t know if this is a good idea…” 

Hermione shut the book with a snap. 

“Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine,” she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. “I don’t want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don’t want to find out if it’s Malfoy—”

“He’s not smart enough to be the heir,” Rosalind objected.

Hermione continued as if Rosalind hadn’t spoken. “—then I’ll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in.’ 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be persuading us to break rules,” said Ron. “All right, we’ll do it. But not toenails, okay?” 

“How long will it take to make, anyway?” said Harry as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again. 

“Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days… I’d say it’d be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.”

“A month?” said Ron. “Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!” But Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, “But it’s the best plan we’ve got, so full steam ahead, I say.” 

However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry and Rosalind, “It’ll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and Rosalind snickered, but the three of them followed Hermione out of the bathroom and back to the common room.

Rosalind and Ginny came late to the Quidditch match the next day, due to Rosalind's inability to locate Ginny. She had finally found her friend curled up with her diary in a dimly lit corner of the common room, and had managed to shake her awake and drag her into the field in time to see the figure of Harry Potter get knocked off of his broom by a bludger, and fall to the field with a dull thud.

With a shriek, Ginny ran towards the field at full speed, leaving Rosalind to tail behind her as she searched the flood of students heading onto the field for her friends.

“Colin!” She managed to find the first year as he ran after Ginny onto the field, eagerly armed with his camera. “What happened?!”

“Rosa!” Colin panted as they neared the Quidditch players. “Where you been? It was incredible! One of the bludgers was fixed on Harry, wouldn’t leave him alone! And he still caught the snitch! He got it! We won!”

Panting, Rosalind slowed to a stop beside Colin as they reached the spot the downed Quidditch team was gathered. In the middle of the gaggle of wizards lay Harry, the golden snitch tightly clutched in his hand as it tried to wave an ambitious Professor Lockhart away.

Clicking came from Colins camera as he leaned down, snapping photos of the incident as Harry let out a groan.

“I don’t want a photo of this, Colin,” he said loudly. 

“Lie back, Harry,” said Lockhart soothingly. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times —” 

“Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?” said Harry through clenched teeth. 

“He should really, Professor,” said a muddy Wood, who couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. “Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say —”

“Stand back,” interrupted Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves. 

“Professor Lockhart,” Rosalind took a step forward, “He needs to be seen by a professional!”

“No — don’t —” said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry’s arm. 

The crowd couldn’t do anything but watch as Harry’s arm, which was slowly turning purple, began to deflate sadly, until it resembled a flish colored glove. 

“Ah,” said Lockhart. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit.” 

Ron and Hermione stepped forward immediately, Ron shooting dagger at the Professor as the stuck their arms under Harry and hoisted him up, helping him off the field as chatter broke out amongst the gathered students. Rosalind turned to a hyperventilating Ginny as they turned to watch Collin eagerly snap photos of the victorious, muddy, quidditch team as they headed back to the changing room.

“You alright, Gin?” Rosalind managed to ask as Ginny’s terrified eyes followed her brother off the field.

“I-I just,” Ginny gave a nervous swallow. “I need to go write in my diary.”

Rosalind stepped in front of Ginny, blocking her path. “Or, crazy idea, we could talk about what’s bothering you.”

Ginny shook her head quickly, eyes wide with fear. “No, no, Rosa. It’ll be ok. I have my dia-”

“You can’t talk to a diary,” Rosalind interrupted, frowning at her friend. “You can talk to people, they can respond to what you say, offer advice and counsel. A diary can’t reply to you!”

Ginny looked left and right, making sure no one in the emptying Quidditch field was listening to them. “Rosa, can you keep a secret?”

Rosalind hesitated, maintaining eye contact with Ginny. “Only if you promise it won’t harm you.”

Ginny nodded eagerly, leaning in close to Rosalind and dropping her voice. “My dairy is enchanted.”

“What?” Rosalind leaned closer, intrigued. “What do you mean? In what way?”

Ginny grinned eagerly at her. “When I write in my diary, it absorbs the ink, and replies!”

“Replies?” Rosalind blinked, trying to comprehend what was going on. “What do you mean?”

“I can show you!” Ginny whispered, excitedly pulling Rosalind towards the castle. “Come on, it’s amazing! It’s name is Tom Riddle, and he’s basically my best friend at this point. He knows everything about me.”

“Ginny, this sounds terrifying,” Rosalind admitted, doubtful. 

“You’ll understand when you talk to him,” Ginny shooed her friends concern away, pulling Rosalind along into the castle. Despite her friend enthusiasm, Rosalind wasn’t convinced. 

Safely inside their bedroom, Ginny drew the curtain around her four poster bed and sat down on top with Rosalind by her side. Opening the diary to the first, blank page, Ginny shoved the diary and a quill into Rosalind's hand. 

“Introduce yourself,” Ginny encouraged, eyes sparkling.

With a sigh, Rosalind indulged her friend.

_ Hello, my name is Rosalind Arcturus Black. _

Rosalind gasped, dropping her quill, as the words lingered for a moment before disappearing, sinking down into the paper. In a matter of seconds, words began to form on the paper, as if being written down from the other side.

_ Hello, Rosalind. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come across this diary? _

“Go on, reply!” Ginny urged as the words began to fade from the paper.

Rosalind gave a nervous swallow. “I’m not sure about this, Gin.”

Ginny scoffed. “If you can dance in front of the whole school, you can reply to a secret message.

Rosalind let out a sigh before returning to the paper.

_ I’m a friend of Ginny’s. She is trying to make me understand why she’s so reliant on this diary. _

_ I am a friend of Ginevra’s. I provide a safe space for her, a way for her to release her emotions.  _

_ What do you get out of it? _

_ A glimpse of life at Hogwarts as it is now. I was once a student there, you know. In fact, I knew your father. _

_ My father? _

_ Regulus Arcturus Black. _

“Take it back, Ginny,” Rosalind whispered, pushing the diary towards the ginger. “Take it away from me.”

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked, a hurt expression on your face. “I thought you would want to know about your father.”

“I’m scared of what I’ll find out,” Rosalind whispered, her eyes growing hot. “I don’t expect you to understand, but please respect that I don’t want to know.”

Ginny gave a sigh, but nodded respectfully. “Alright, Rosa. I won’t press you. But know that if you ever want to know, I keep the diary under my pillow.”

Rosalind nodded. “Thanks, Ginny. Do you have your sleeping potion from Madame Pomfrey?”

Ginny winced. “I was so worried about Harry that I forgot to get a refill. All Icould think about was how badly I needed to vent this worry out.”

“No worries,” Rosalind gave her a weak smile. “How about you stay here and vent to Tom, and I’ll go and get a refill for you? Then you’re going to sleep. No napping in the common room in the middle of the day.”

Ginny gave her a sarcastic eye roll. “Alright, mom.”

Rosalind flashed Ginny a smile, but her legs were shaking as she walked out through the celebrating common room, briefly catching glimpses of Colin and Estelle taking photos of the celebrating Quidditch team.

“Rosa!” Colin waved excitedly as he caught sight of her slinking towards the portrait. “Where you off to, eh? Parties just getting started!”

“I’m getting some more potion fro Ginny,” Rosalind explained with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back to party later on.”

“Maybe I could come with you,” Colin offered, following her to the portrait hole. “It’s not safe for anyone to be alone at night, with the monster unleashed and all.”

“Don’t worry Colin,” Rosalind pinched Colin on the nose, smirking. “I’m a pureblood, remember? Besides, you’re having fun. Go, enjoy the party!”

Collin gave her a crazed grin, pinching her back on the nose before running back off to the join the party, leaving Rosalind to clamber out of the portrait hole.

The castle was deathly quiet as Rosalind headed downstairs to the Infirmary, arms wrapped around herself as the chilling cold of the stone hallways crept under her skin. Shivering, she stepped into the, thankfully, warm infirmary, making eye contact with Madame Pomfrey as the healer hurried over from a bed in the corner.

“Miss Black!” She huffed, looking her up and down. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here for Ginny Weasley’s sleeping potion,” Rosalind smiled sweetly up at the healer. “She would have come herself, but she wanted to be there for her brothers. You know, they just won the first Quidditch match of the year.”

“Yes, Miss Black,” Madame Pomfrey threw an irritated look back at the occupied hospital bed in the corner. “Unfortunately, I am aware of the Gryffindor win.”

Rosalind trailed behind Madame Pomfrey as the healer walked over to a towering set of shelves in the corner of the room, looking them up and down with a frown on her face.

“I see…” Madame Pomfrey muttered, turning to face Rosalind. “Miss Black, it seems it slipped my mind to pick up a new batch of the potion from Professor Snape.” 

“I can pick them up,” Rosalind offered with a smile. “Professor Snape is my godfather, after all.”

“Is he now?” Madame Pomfrey gave her a curious look. “Well, Miss Black, I cannot within my knowledge have a student wandering around the castle after hours. If you would be so kind as to stay here and watch my overnight patient, I will go retrieve the potion from Professor Snape.”

Rosalind nodded. “You can count of me, Madame Pomfrey.”

Madame Pomfrey gave her a curt nod and, with a glance over at the bed in the back, swept out of the room.

Rosalind took a steadying breath before waltzing over to the bed in the corner, pulling the curtain aside and poking her head in. “Knock knock, Harry Potter. I’m supposed to watch you to make sure you don’t lose another arm.”

“I didn’t lose it,” Harry Potter sulked, but he gave a small smile at the sight of Rosalind. “Well, come on in. Sit down.”

Rosalind stepped up to the corner of the hospital bed, climbing onto the end and sitting criss cross applesauce. “How’s the arm? Does it hurt?”

“It stings,” Harry Potter sighed, pulling back the hospitaal covers to reveal the rubbery arm. “Tell me, is it bad?”

“Well…” Rosalind looked at the flap of skin at Harry Potter’s side. “It’s definitely looking a lot more… three dimensional.”

Harry Potter let out a snort of laughter. “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

Rosalind gave a soft smile but didn’t respond. The silence between them dragged out as Rosalind looked out the window on their right, lost in thought.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

Rosalind blinked at Harry Potter in surprise. “Sure, what would you like to know?”

Uncertainty shone in Harry Potter’s eyes as he looked up at Rosalind. “Is Professor Snape really your godfather?”

Rosalind gave a soft smile. “Yes, Harry Potter. He is.” 

Harry Potter gave her an incredulous look. “I-I don’t understand.”

Rosalind leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. “Well, get comfortable, Harry Potter. I’m going to spin you a yarn.”

Harry Potter did his best to sit up in his hospital bed, his limp arm dangling at his side. “I’m listening, Miss Black.”

Rosalind smirked for a second, but it dropped from her face quickly. “When the Dark Lord was first rising to power, there was a trio of Slytherins who were inseparable. They didn’t have much in common besides their aptitude for their classes, particularly potions. Those Slytherins were names Severus Snape, Regulus Black, and Primrose Rosier.”

Harry Potter raised his eyebrow at Rosalind as she named her parents, but didn’t ask any questions.

“Throughout their school years,” Rosalind continued, looking down at her hands, “Severus Snape began to idolize the Dark Lord, drawing Regulus Black into his obsession. The two of them, in Snape’s final few years at Hogwarts, made promises to the movement to join their ranks. Severus was certain he would have a purpose, and a friend, but Regulus had made other promises.”

“Regulus Black was a pureblood, expected to marry a pureblood. Both he and Primrose were delighted to find they were to marry each other following their graduation from Hogwarts, since they had been secretly courting for several years prior. This soured their relationship with Severus, who never enjoyed being the odd man out. It hurt him even more that his friend hadn’t told him about the nature of his relationship with Primrose; Severus found out on the day he and Regulus received their dark marks, when Primrose came along to receive hers as a sign of devotion to her new husband and his ideas. He also found out that Primrose had given birth to their firstborn, Stygian, in July.”

“Primrose was left alone with her newborn after Regulus disappeared in October, and then found out later in November that she was expecting yet again. Alone, with an infant, and one more on the way, she reached out to Severus, her closest friend, for help. Reluctantly, he did what he could to help her get back on her feet as a single mother. Without Severus Snape, my mother might have died. Now, she’s assistant to the Minister of Magic himself.”

Harry Potter was staring at Rosalind, nodding, as she finally looked up at him and smiled. “So, as a sign of goodwill to their renewed friendship, Primrose named Severus the godfather of me, her newborn. I was the start of a new era in her life, or so she says.”

“You’re mother is a strong woman,” Harry Potter said wisely.

“That’s one way to put it,” Rosalind snorted, smiling at Harry as the echo of the opening infirmary door echoed throughout the hall. “Now, I’ve told you a bedtime story. Do I need to tuck you in too?”

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as Rosalind climbed out of the bed.

“Goodnight,” Rosalind chirped, brushing aside the curtain shielding Harry Potter’s bed from the public eye.

“Hey, Rosa?”

Rosalind turned her head, and green eyes met green eyes.

“Thanks for being honest with me,” Harry Potter smiled at Rosalind, and she felt her face grow hot under his gaze.

“Yeah, well don’t expect this to be a regular thing,” Rosalind smirked back at him. “You’ve caught me in a moment of weakness, Harry Potter.”

“It’s just Harry.”

Rosalind tilted her head, pretending to think for a moment, before giving it a decisive shake. “No, I think Harry Potter sounds a lot better.”


	5. Petrified

The rest of the weekend proved to be uneventful. Rosalind and Estelle were grateful to finally be getting full nights of sleep, and Harry Potter was released form the hospital win early Sunday morning, both arms intact. Unfortunately, Rosalind was too preoccupied with Estelle and the homework they had been putting off to check in with her friends, and come Monday it only go worse.

Ginny was the first to notice at breakfast, curiously looking over at Rosalind. “Have you seen Collin today?”

Estelle shook her head while Rosalind tipped her head, thinking back.

“No,” Rosalind frowned. “I haven’t seen him since the party on Saturday.”

The unspoken question hung in the air, the three of them all unwilling to ask.

“Hey, first years!”

They looked up as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil came up to them, arms linked.

“Rosalind,” Lavender nodded at her occasional classmate, her eyes round and terrified. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”

“What do you mean?” Rosalind stood up, her head spinning.

Parvati blinked, taken back. “You mean, you haven’t heard? Collin Creevey is petrified in the hospital wing.”

Ginny let out a cry, covering her mouth with both hands, and Estelle wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“They found him early Sunday morning,” Lavender added. “Harry overheard from McGonagall and told Ron who told Seamus who told Parvati who told me.”

“Harry’s known a whole day and didn’t tell me?” Rosalind sat back down, feeling cracked. 

“God, Rosa,” Ginny shook her head, standing up. “How could that be what you got out of this? Collin is petrified!”

Lavender and Parvati exchanged worried looks and wisely walked away.

“Ginny, I-”

Ginny held up her hand. “No, I don’t want to hear it.”

There was a moment of heavy silence between the three of them; the sound of clinking breakfast utensils barely breaking through the haze they sat in.

“I’m going to go,” Ginny turned away from them. “I need to write in my journal.”

“Ginny!” Estelle jumped up and ran after their friend as she stormed out of the great hall, tears running down her cheeks, leaving Rosalind on her own at the Gryffindor table.

The second attack took a dismal attack on everyone’s moods. Hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked. 

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron, and Hermione signed her list; they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him. Rosalind and Stygian were also staying behind, seeing as their mother had sent them an owl saying she would be away for the holidays.

As the school buzzed with excitement of the upcoming break from work, an announcement from the Hogwarts staff got everyone excited enough to forget about Collin’s petrification. Rosalind was talking to Hermione, the two of them tailing Ron and Harry as they headed from Transfiguration to dinner.

“How is the spell not practical?!” Hermione bristled defensively as they neared the entrance hall.

“Hermione,” Rosalind spoke calmly, putting her hand on the second years arm. “I respect you, and your ideas, but when will you even be in a situation where you need to transfigure a desk into a pig?”

Harry and Ron let out a laugh from in front of them, ignoring the glare Hermione shot at the pair of them. She opened her mouth to reply, but was distracted but a group of people gathering near the notice board.

Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited. 

“They’re starting a Dueling Club!” said Seamus. “First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…” 

“What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?” said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest. 

“Could be useful,” Harry said to the group as they went into dinner. “Shall we go?” 

Rosalind and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o’clock that evening the four of them hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited. 

“I wonder who’ll be teaching us?” said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. “Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young — maybe it’ll be him.” 

“As long as it’s not —” Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black. 

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!”

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.” 

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!” 

“Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear, but his mutter wasn’t too quiet for Rosalind to overhear. She silenced him quickly with a sharp stamp onto his foot, and Ron’s face contorted as he tried to keep down a cry of pain.

Professor Snape was curling his lip at Lockhart, and Rosalind could barely contain her smile of delight. Anyone who knew Severus Snape knew to run at the sight of that look, but unfortunately Lockhart wasn’t smart enough to catch on. 

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. 

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.” 

“One — two — three —” 

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” 

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. Stygian, Draco, and a few more of their friends cheered

Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he’s all right?” she squealed through her fingers. 

“Who cares?” said Harry, Ron, and Rosalind, together. Rosalind put up her hand, and Ron gave her a satisfying high five as Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

Once Lockheart had recovered from his initial shock of getting disarmed, he and Snape went around, pairing everyone with a dueling partner. Snape got to them first, putting Ron with Seamus, Harry with Draco, and Hermione with Millicent Bullstrode.

“Miss Black,” Professor Snape sniffed at her, looking around for another remaining student.

“Uncle Sev,” Rosalind chirped sweetly, smiling dotingly up at her godfather.

Snape mumbled something under his breath. “Fine; work with your brother.”

Rosalind gave Professor Snape an incredibly quick hug, so fast he didn’t realize it was happening, and ran over to high five Stygian. Behind her, Professor Snape regained his composure and went along to watch the dueling students.

“So, little sister,” Stygian teased, drawing his wand. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Rosalind purred, pulling out her own wand and pointing it at Stygian.

Smirking back, Stygian bowed deeply, Rosalind following suite, and the duel began. 

“Rictusempra!” Rosalind whipped her hand at her brother, shooting a silver streak across the room that he easily deflected.

“Levioso!” Stygian retaliated, aiming for Rosalind's feet with the spell.

Rosalind dropped into a crouch, flicking her wand in front of her. “Protego!”

The spell was absorbed into her shield charm, and faded from sight.

Pointing her wand at eye level with Stygian, Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut. “Lumos Maxima!”

After a few seconds, Rosalind flicked her wrist and extinguished her wand, opening her eyes to a blinded Stygian stumbling on his feet.

“Immobulus!” Rosalind grinned as her wand danced through the air, catching Stygian off guard. He froze, arms lifted slightly, a defeated expression on his scrunched up face as Rosalind skipped over to him. Raising up onto her tiptoes and giving him a peck on the cheek as she took his wand from his frozen grip and waltzed a few steps back.

“Finite Incantatem,” Rosalind smirked as she released her brother from his frozen position. 

He stumbled for a moment, regaining his balance quickly, before giving Rosalind a pout. “That was devious, even for you.”

“That, my dear brother—,” Rosalind tossed Stygian his wand, and he caught it in midair, “—was winning.

Behind Stygian, Blaise raised his eyebrow at Rosalind and gave her a few congratulatory claps. She gave him a sweet smile and a curtsy, before turning to Stygian and rolling her eyes.

Stygian stifled a laugh, but the siblings attention was snapped away as a hiss resounded through the great hall. In the center of the hall, Harry and Draco were facing off in a duel. Halfway between them, an incredibly large snake was slithering towards the gathered students.

“That’s one loud snake,” Stygian joked as the hiss resounded throughout the room.

A shadow loomed behind them as Blaise walked over to the siblings, his face dark. “That wasn’t the snake.”

Rosalind cast him a bewildered look that was cut short as another hiss resounded through the hall. Watching closely, Rosalind saw Harry open his mouth, and a terrifying hissing sound came out as he chased the snake away from the students.

Rosalind ran into the throng and grabbed Professor Snape by the sleeve, tugging him towards the circle. As if woken from a dream, Professor Snape flicked his wand and the snake vanished in a puff of smoke. 

“Get him out of here,” Snape hissed to Rosalind, giving Harry a cold and calculated look.

Nodding across the circle to Hermione, Rosalind ran forward and tugged at Harry Potter’s sleeve. “Come one, Harry Potter.”

“What—”

“Come on!” Rosalind hissed more urgently, getting behind Harry and pushing him out of the circle. Ron came over and grabbed hold of one of Harry’s arms, guiding him out of the great hall with Rosalind in tow as a growing tide of whispers threatened to swamp them.

Neither Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room. 

Then Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“I’m a what?” said Harry. 

“A Parselmouth!” said Ron. 

“You can talk to snakes!” Rosalind cried out, throwing her hands into the air.

“I know,” said Harry, looking at them incredulously. “I mean, that’s only the second time I’ve ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once — long story — but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard —” 

“A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?” Ron repeated faintly. 

“So?” said Harry. “I bet loads of people here can do it.” 

“Oh, no they can’t,” said Ron. “It’s not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad.” 

“What’s bad?” said Harry, looking angry. “What’s wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin —” 

Rosalind exchanged a look with Ron. “Oh, that’s what you said to it?” 

“What d’you mean? You were there — you heard me —” 

“I heard you speaking Parseltongue,” said Ron. “Snake language. You could have been saying anything — no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something — it was creepy, you know —” 

Harry gaped at him. “I spoke a different language? But — I didn’t realize — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?” 

Ron shook his head. 

“D’you want to tell me what’s wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin’s head?” Harry snapped at them. “What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn’t have to join the Headless Hunt?” 

“It matters,” said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, “because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That’s why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent.” 

Harry’s mouth fell open. 

“Exactly,” said Ron. “And now the whole school’s going to think you’re his great-great-great-great-grandson or something —” 

“But I’m not,” said Harry, with a panic he couldn’t quite explain. 

“You’ll find that hard to prove,” said Hermione. “He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.” 

Rosalind met Harry’s eyes, and she could almost hear the unspoken question he was asking. Did that mean he belonged in Slytherin?

Rosalind shook her head aggressively, but Harry didn’t look at all convinced as people began returning from the dueling club, and he excused himself for the night.

Hermione let out a sigh as they watched Harry sludge up the stairs to the boys dormitory. “Come on, Rosa. Let’s go get some sleep.”

Once in her room, Rosalind filled Ginny and Estelle in on the events of the dueling club. Ginny seemed to only half-listen to what Rosalind was saying as she scribbled ferociously in her diary, a faraway look on her face, but Rosalind was too tired to prod any information out of her. 

The next day, Rosalind found her favorite ginger missing, yet again. It took only a few minutes of rummaging through her trunk to find Ginny’s sleeping potion, empty for some time from the looks of it. 

“Ginny,” Rosalind groaned to herself, tucking the empty vial into her robe pocket and heading down to the common room. Estelle was sitting in one of the large armchairs, reading an enormous book.

She glanced up at Rosalind as she walked up to her friend. “Rosa. Looking for Ginny?”

Rosalind smiled meekly. “Is it that obvious?”

Estelle smiled, rolling her eyes. “Well, I couldn’t find her earlier. If you manage to dig her out of whatever hole she’s fallen asleep in now, tell her I’ve picked up the copy of  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ she had on hold from the library.”

Rosalind gave Estelle a salute, who awkwardly saluted back from her position in the armchair, before heading out into the castle in search of her stray ginger. 

She slid down the bannister of the moving staircases to avoid trick steps, slipping down the hall till she reached the great hall. 

“Hermione!” Rosalind waved at the second year as she sat down across from Ron at the Gryffindor table. “Hey, Ron. Either of you seen Ginny?”

Hermione looked over from her book with a frown. “No, not recently. Ron?”

Ron shrugged. “Not me.”

Rosalind muttered and slumped over the table, resting her chin on the stone.

“Harry’s looking for a certain Justin Finch-Fletchley,” Ron raised an eyebrow at Rosalind. “Maybe you can join him in your search for lost people.”

Rosalind stuck her tongue out at Ron, but got up and headed out of the great hall regardless. She went up a side corridor, climbing a set of stairs near ravenclaw tower. Turning a corner, Rosalind gasped as she stopped mere inches away from Harry Potter.

“Rosa!” He gasped, putting a hand on his chest. “Merlin, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I was just looking for you,” Rosalind sighed, taking a step back. “Have you seen Ginny?”

Harry Potter shook his head. “No, sorry. I’ve been preoccupied with finding Justin.”

“Ah,” Rosalind nodded. “Mind if I join you? The castle’s kind of scary when you’re wandering on your own.”

Harry rolled his eyes, a teasing smile on his face. “Come on, even if you did meet the monster it couldn’t get you. You’re a pureblood.”

“Is that what keeps you so cocky in these dark times?” Rosalind smirked. “Knowing that you’re a pureblood?”

“Guilty,” Harry put his hands up, eyes glittering. “But hey, whatever helps you sleep at night, right?”

Rosalind laughed as they turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. They were halfway down the passage when Harry tripped headlong over something lying on the floor. Rosalind leaned down to help him up, but let out a gasp and drew back at what she saw.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Rosalind had ever seen. It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s. 

The quiet mutters of the occupied classrooms that lined the corridor filled the silence as Harry and Rosalind stared, aghast, at the scene in front of them. Rosalind was taking quick, panicked breaths.

“Hey, c-calm down,” Harry didn’t sound as if he was taking his own advice.

“We need to tell someone!” Rosalind gasped, looking up at Harry as he stared at the floating corpse of Nearly Headless Nick.

Before Harry could reply, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out. 

“Why, it’s potty wee Potter!” cackled Peeves, knocking Harry’s glasses askew as he bounced past him. “What’s Potter up to? Why’s Potter lurking —” 

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, “ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!” 

Crash — crash — crash — door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick.

“Harry Potter!” Rosalind gasped as the two of them were pushed back until they were pinned against the stone wall of the corridor.

“I’m here!” Harry’s voice came from behind her, and Rosalind’s cheeks grew hot as she realized just how squashed everyone was.  

Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than a Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene. 

“Caught in the act!” he yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry. 

“That will do, Macmillan!” said Professor McGonagall sharply. 

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song: “Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done, You’re killing off’ students, you think it’s good fun —” 

“That’s enough Peeves!” barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry. 

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured two large fans out of thin air, which she gave to the Hufflepuff and Rosalind with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This they did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. 

This left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together. Rosalind mouthed a silent ‘good luck’ at Harry as she walked past, waving her fan ferociously, and he gave her a half a second of a meek smile in return. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” The Hufflepuff puffed as they struggled to fan the ghost up the stairs. “My name’s Ernie.”

Rosalind gave him a nod, too out of breath to respond.

“You’re Rosalind Black, right? You and your brother danced during Halloween?”

“Yeah,” Rosalind stopped fanning for a moment as the reached the entrance to the infirmary. “What of it?”

Ernie shrugged, “You’re friend with Harry?”

“Harry Potter?” Rosalind looked at Ernie oddly. “Yeah.”

“And, you’re not scared?”

Rosalind crossed her arms defiantly, “Why would I be scared of Harry?”

Ernie let out a snort, “They said you were smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s the heir of Slytherin!”

Rosalind tossed her fan at Ernie and it bounced off his head.,“Have fun getting Nick in the infirmary on your own. I’m surprised you haven’t gone stupid from running into walls, because obviously you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“Wait!” Ernie yelped as Rosalind turned and stomped down the stairs, leaving him alone with two large fans and a twice dead ghost.

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? People asked each other: what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas. 

“Mom’s working overtime with the Minister,” Stygian told Rosalind one morning after breakfast, reading over a letter that had arrived by owl that morning. “They’re trying to real in the Chamber situation—” 

“You mean,” Rosalind snatched the letter away from Stygian and threw it to the side, “—Mom is busy arranging the Ministers yearly christmas shindig, and sending out his Christmas cards to all the lovely people of high wizarding society.”

“Come on, Rosa,” Stygian rolled his eyes. “Can’t you at least pretend to feel the Christmas spirit.”

Rosalind twirled down the hallway, holding her hands over her head like a ballerina, singing loudly. “God rest ye merry hippogriffs, let nothing you dismay—”

“Stop!” Stygian laughed, grabbing her hands and stopping her spin. “I take it back!”

Rosalind laughed with him, until more laughter from down the hall caught her attention.

Fred and George Weasley were marching down the stone corridor, parting the crowded students like Moses.

“Make way for the Heir of Slytherin!” Fred shouted, waving away a group of first year Ravenclaws.

“Seriously evil wizard coming through!” Shouted George from next to him.

Behind them trailed Harry Potter, tailed by Ron and Hermione. All of them looked rather embarrassed, but Harry looked as if he would end the Weasley twins if they said one more word.

“It is not a laughing matter,” Percy said coldly as he walked up to his brothers with a female Ravenclaw Prefect. 

“Oh, get out of the way, Percy,” said Fred. “Harry’s in a hurry.” 

“Yeah, he’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant,” said George, chortling. 

“Oh, don’t!” Wailed Ginny from where she was standing next to Estelle, clutching her diary for dear life.

Fred and George laughed before winding down the hallway in a squiggly walk, hissing at Rosalind and Stygian as they pretended to slyther past.

At last the term ended, and a snow ladden peace descended over the castle. Most everyone had left the school, terrified of being petrified. The only Gryffindors left were Harry, Hermione, Rosalind, and the Weasley’s, though they thankfully didn’t see much of Percy. They had the run of Gryffindor Tower, which meant they could play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice dueling in private. Rosalind even managed to catch Hermione off guard with her wand lighting trick. 

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Rosalind and Ginny managed to wake up before noon, both delighted to see a small pile of presents at the foot of her bed.

“That sweater looks so cozy,” Rosalind gushed as Ginny unwrapped a large knit sweater with an embroidered ‘G’ on the front.

“Thanks,” Ginny grinned at Rosalind. “Mom makes them for every family member each year.”

Rosalind sighed, looking down at the envelope of galleons from her mother. “Sounds lovely.”

She reached for the next present to unwrap, aware of Ginny’s eyes boring into the back of her head. 

Before she could ask, Ginny jumped off of her bed and slid out of the bedroom, footsteps echoing as she descended down the stairs. 

Shrugging, Rosalind unwrapped her present from Stygian, pleasantly pleased. He had gotten her the year 3 charms spellbook. Well, gotten was a loose term. He was passing down his copy of the year 3 charms spellbook, the latest edition of Miranda Goshawk’s Book of Spells. 

The door to their room slammed against the stone wall as Ginny slid back in, breathless, a bundle in her arms.

“Think fast!” She squealed, tossing the bundle at Rosalind.

Rosalind leaned forward to catch the bundle, unfolding it.

“Ron hates maroon,” Ginny said with a grin as she sat down on the edge of Rosalind’s bed. “It didn’t take much to convince him to part with it.”

“Ginny,” Rosalind looked at the sweater, the embroidered ‘R’ seemed to glow for her. “Ginny, to be honest, I might cry.”

“Don’t make a scene, Rosa,” Ginny laughed, giving her a quick hug before walking back to her bed. “Just put on the sweater.”

Sniffling, Rosalind pulled the maroon sweater over her head, her curly hair bunching up against the crewneck collar as she snuggled into it, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

“Thank you, Gin.”

Ginny looked over at her, her eyes sparkling. “No problem, Rosa.”

The sat for a moment in silence, looking over their presents. 

“Oh,” Ginny looked back at Rosa. “Hermione wanted me to tell you, ‘it’s done.’”

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn’t noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read “Pinhead,” kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. 

Over dinner, Hermione explained the plan discreetly to Rosalind while everyone was distracted with the festivities. Once Harry Potter and Ron had managed to get the hairs from Crabbe and Goyle, the would transform. Hermione had already pulled a hair from Millicent Bulstrode during a fight they had gotten into during the dueling club. Once they had all transformed and changed, Rosalind would accompany them to find Draco, and should be able to convince him to let her into the Slytherin common room to give Stygian his Christmas present.

“After dinner,” Hermione finished, watching the Slytherin table carefully, “—keep an eye on Draco. Make sure he doesn’t leave before we come back down here.”

Rosalind nodded. “Got it. Looks like they just started pudding, so you guys should have at least twenty five minutes if you go now.”

Hermione winked at her. “Don’t worry, Ron and Harry have already started.”

Half an hour later, Ginny and Rosalind were giggling as Hagrid kept tugging on an enchanted cracker that wouldn’t open. In his stupor he couldn’t figure out that it wouldn’t open, and his face was red from the effort of pulling at it.

“Merlin,” Rosalind looked over as Draco got up from the Slytherin table, leaving Pansy Parkingson on her own. “Hey, Gin, I gotta take Styg his present. See you back at the common room?”

Ginny gave Rosalind a salute as she hopped up from the Gryffindor table and ran off to the entrance of the great hall, catching up with Draco in the corridor outside.

“Draco!” Rosalind gasped as she caught up to him. 

“What?” Draco looked at her suspiciously. “What do you need, Black?”

“How does my brother like you?” Rosalind wondered aloud, shaking her head. “Anyways, I need to give Styg his christmas present, but he already went back to your common room. Can I come with you?”

“Why don’t I just give it to him?” Draco raised one eyebrow at Rosalind and crossed his arms.

“It’s a family tradition,” Rosalind blinked innocently up at Draco. “You wouldn’t keep me from my big brother, would you?”

Draco groaned and turned away from Rosalind. “Fine. Follow me.”

The unlikely pair made their way to the grand staircase, Rosalind skipping down the hall after Draco, clutching Stygian’s present in her hands. They made their way down the stairs, running into the two people Rosalind had expected to find. Unfortunately, the pair was facing off with Percy Weasley.

“There you are,” Draco drawled, looking at Crabbe and Goyle as strolled up to them. “Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I’ve been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny.” 

Draco glanced witheringly at Percy. 

“And what’re you doing down here, Weasley?” he sneered. 

Percy looked outraged. “You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect! I don’t like your attitude!” 

Malfoy sneered and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. As he turned away, Rosalind made nervous eye contact with the two of them, and gave a weary thumbs up, giving a sigh of relief as they smiled and gave her each a thumbs up back. They hurried after Draco, who said as they turned into the next passage, “That Peter Weasley —” 

“Percy,” Crabbe, or rather, Ron, corrected him automatically. 

“Whatever,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. “I’ve noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he’s up to. He thinks he’s going to catch Slytherin’s heir single-handed.” 

He gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged excited looks. 

Draco paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. 

“What’s the new password again?” he said to Harry, or, Goyle. 

“Er —” said Harry. 

“Oh, yeah — pure-blood!” said Draco, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. 

“That’s awful,” Rosalind glared at Draco, who shrugged and marched through it, and Harry and Ron followed him. 

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs. 

“Wait here,” said Draco to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. “I’ll go and get it my father’s just sent it to me. Black, come on. I’ll take you to Styg. ” 

Rosalind shared a look with Crabbe Ron and Goyle Harry, watching them sit down on a velvet sofa before following Draco to a corridor off the side of the common room. He lead her down the hall and into a room off the side, not bothering to knock as he pushed into the bedroom.

“Styg!” Draco shouted, looking over to the right side of the room. “I’ve brought you a lady for company!”

“You wouldn’t do something so generous!” came Stygians laugh as he popped his head out from behind the curtains of a four poster bed, curls bouncing. “Rosa!”

“Merry Christmas!” Rosalind sang, walking over to him and sticking out her hands. “Sorry I didn’t get it to you earlier, I completely forgot to get wrapping paper.”

“So how did you wrap this?” Stygian smirked over at her. 

“I used the wrapping paper you used on my gift,” Rosalind admitted as she smiled at him.

He shook his head and let out a short laugh, “Of course you did. Real resourceful.”

“You two are so sweet that it’s sickening,” Draco snorted, rolling his eyes as he picked up a scrap of paper from his bed and headed back towards the door.

“Jealous, Malfoy?” Stygian raised an eyebrow at Draco as the blonde tilted his head back to look at them cockily before leaving the bedroom.

“He’s a piece of work,” Rosalind scoffed, plopping down onto the end of Stygian's bed. “So, this is your room.”

The room was definitely larger than the room Rosalind was sleeping in. Six, large, four poster beds were spaced out throughout the room. Each bed had a wardrobe, desk, and bookshelf next to it. On the right, next to Stygian and Draco’s beds, was an enormous window that let in watery green light. Crystal chandeliers and curtains draped from the center of the room, and torches illuminated the overwhelming amount of green.

“Don’t sound so impressed,” Stygian pinched Rosalind on the nose as he walked by to put the present onto an ornate desk that sat by his bed. “You’re probably the first non-Slytherin to enter our common room in centuries.”

“You guys really commit that much to the whole loner thing?” Rosalind teased, throwing a pillow at Stygian.

Stygian caught the pillow and threw it right back at her. “But of course. It defines who I am.”

“An idiot?”

“Shut up.”

The two of them laughed, and Rosalind stood up from the bed and took a step towards the door. “Do I need to show myself out? Mother would be so disappointed.”

Stygian rolled his eyes. “I’m in the middle of an essay.”

Rosalind walked back over to Stygian and gave him a hug. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Rosa.”

Waving bye, Rosalind slipped out of the bedroom and back down the dank corridor, sliding into the common room and making eye contact with Goyle Harry. Her heart nearly stopped as she met his green eyes, and a quick look at Crabbe Ron showed streaks of ginger coming back into his hair. 

They both jumped to their feet as Rosalind approached the group. 

“Medicine for my stomach,” Crabbe Ron grunted, and with a nod at Draco the three of them walked quickly out of the common room, breaking into a sprint as they made it out into the castle hallway, and climbing up the stairs to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Well, it wasn’t a complete waste of time,” Ron panted, closing the bathroom door behind them. “I know we still haven’t found out who’s doing the attacks, but I’m going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys’ drawing room.” 

“What?” Rosalind looked at Harry Potter for an explanation, but he was checking his face in the cracked mirror. 

Ron hammered on the door of Hermione’s stall. “Hermione, come out, we’ve got loads to tell you —” 

“Go away!” Hermione squeaked. 

“What’s the matter?” said Ron. “You must be back to normal by now, we are.” 

Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. They had never seen her looking so happy. 

“Ooooooh, wait till you see,” she said. “It’s awful —” 

They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head. 

“What’s up?” said Ron uncertainly. “Have you still got Millicent’s nose or something?” 

Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink. Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair. 

“It was a c-cat hair!” she howled. “M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn’t supposed to be used for animal transformations!” 

“Uh-oh,” said Ron. 

“You’ll be teased something dreadful,” said Myrtle happily. 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” said Rosalind quickly, putting her arm around the second year. “We’ll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions…”

In the flurry of activity that came with everyone’s return from Christmas holidays came a bitter worry for the end of the term. Rosalind was determined to pass her second year classes with an O at least, but with Hermione secluding herself out of shame in the hospital wing, she didn’t have anyone to study with. Harry and Ron weren’t too concerned about the end of term, claiming there was no reason to study hard unless it was the end of the year. Ginny and Estelle were busy studying for their first year exams, and a studying session with them would end up a tutoring session for Rosalind. So she spent her studying hours alone, in her room. 

After four days she was ready to punch a hole in the stone wall.

“I need a break,” Rosalind muttered to herself, running her hands through her tangled, curly hair. “Let’s go find some company. Great idea, Rosa! Thanks, Rosa!”

Rolling off of her bed, Rosalind walked over to the door to the bedroom and pushed it open, walking down the spiral staircase to the common room.

“Elle!” Rosalind sang, running over to Ginny and Estelle. “What’s new? How you doing? What are you doing?”

Estelle looked up at Rosalind, panic in her eyes. “I can’t make the levitation charm work!”

Rosalind sighed, but sat down next to Estelle on the sofa. “Let’s see it.”

Pointing her wand at a sponge on the desk, Estelle flicked her wand. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The sponge flipped over onto its other side, but remained on the ground.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Rosalind pulled out her wand and looked over at Estelle. “When you say Leviosa you need to enunciate the O, not the A.”

Pointing her wand at the sponge, Rosalind demonstrated. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The sponge flitted upward, following Rosalind's wand as she guided it over Ginny and extinguished the charm.

“Hey!” Ginny cried out as she sponge bounced off of her head, and, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, threw it back at Rosalind.

Rosalind hung around Ginny and Estelle for a few more minutes, helping them through a few problems with their charms. They informed her that Oliver Wood had kept Harry, Fred, and George in Quidditch practice since earlier at breakfast, and Ron was keeping Hermione company in the hospital wing. 

“I’m going back to the bedroom,” Rosalind sighed, getting up from the sofa and waving to Ginny and Estelle.

“We’ll be up in an hour or so,” Estelle said without looking up from her notes. “Then we can go to dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Rosalind sighed. She walked away from the pair and back to her room, bored out of her mind. Collapsing onto her four poster bed, she rested her chin on her pillow and gave a loud groan. 

Looking around the room, a small black book caught her eye. Ginny’s Diary, Tom, was poking out of a stack of scrolls on her desk.

“Ginny,” Rosalind groaned at her friends carelessness, and clamberred off her bed. 

Picking up the diary, Rosalind felt a chill go up her spine. 

“I’m just putting you under Ginny’s pillow,” Rosalind whispered, confused. “I don’t have to justify myself to you, you’re an inanimate object.”

A wave of scorching heat flashed from the diary, scorching Rosalind’s hand and she dropped it with a yelp. The diary bounced off the floor before, landing open to the front page. Rosalind trembled as she bent down to observe the letters forming on the blank paper.

_ Good evening, Rosalind Arcturus Black. _

Rosalind scowled at the diary before grabbing a quill, dipping it quickly into an inkwell before scrawling out a response.

_ “What do you want?” _

_ I was wondering when you would come back to me. _

_ “I just want to hide you away from the others. Ginny left you out on her desk.” _

_ Of course, yes. Ginny left me. _

_ “I’m going to put you back now.” _

_Don’t you want to talk about your father_?

Rosalind clenched her fist and took a steadying breath as a wave of panic washed over her.

_ “Why would I want to talk about my father?” _

_ Maybe you would rather I simply show you? _

_ “Show me what?” _

_ Don’t you want to know what he was like? _

_ “Yes, but why would I trust you?” _

_ Because he and I were closer than you know. _

_ “You’re talking in circles.” _

_ Let me show you. _

_ “Fine. Show me.” _

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of October. Mouth hanging open, Rosalind saw that the little square for October thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. Her hands trembling slightly, she raised the book to press her eye against the little window, and before she knew what was happening, she was tilting forward; the window was widening, she felt her body leave her bedroom, and she was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow. 

Her feet slammed against solid ground, and she stood up, shakily. She was standing in the entrance hall of an large manor. It was incredibly elegant, with silk curtains and portraits of stern looking wizards decking out every wall that didn’t have an ornate window. From down the hall music was playing, a slow melody that seemed too light and airy for the dark aura of the manor. 

Confused, Rosalind slowly walked down the hallway, keeping as close to the wall as she could. Her eyes flitted around nervously as she stopped by the ajar entrance to a large room. From the looks of the amount of books in the space, it was a library.

Silver bells, heather, lilies and queen annes lace hung in garlands that strung from a chandelier in the center of the room. More bells were hovering over a string quartet, ringing along to the melody. They looked terrified to be there, but played gorgeously. Throughout the hall, witches and wizards were sitting in black robes, murmuring amongst each other as they glanced between the archway in the front of the room, back to the door. 

Rosalind took a step into the library, staring at the people under the arch.

Regulus Arcturus Black was standing near the front of the room, his dark green dress robes accented with silver. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his brown eyes watched the door nervously.

Beside his was Severus Snape. Or rather, a younger version of Severus Snape. His hair was raggedy, but it had a healthy shine rather then the usual greasy shine. His sunken eyes revealed just as little emotion as they did now, but the very corners of his mouth were curved up in what could have been a smile.

Legs shaking so hard she was surprised she managed to move them, Rosalind approached her father to get a closer look. They shared a face; Rosalind had the strong cheekbones and square jaw of the Black family. He looked nervous, and kept looking over at the entrance to the library.

“I’ve seen you before,” Rosalind whispered, frowning as she tried to remember. His outfit, this place, she had seen it before, but one crucial point was missing.

Suddenly, the music stopped. A rustling came from behind Rosalind, and she turned to find that all of the assembled witches and wizards had risen to their feet and turned to the entrance, watching expectantly as a figure appeared in the doorway.

Rosalind had to sit down as the quartet began to play the wedding march, and a young Primrose Rosier walked her way down the aisle, smiling warmly at Regulus. Her white lace dress glowed in the candlelight as she made her way up to Regulus, reaching her hand out to him. He took it eagerly, and together they turned to face a wizard unknown to Rosalind as he conducted the wedding ceremony.

As soon as they were wed, kissing eagerly, laughing lightly, a cloaked figure stepped up to the archway, taking the place of the wizard who had conducted the ceremony.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” the figure’s cloaked hood spoke in a soft, but powerful voice. “Primrose Alexandra Rosier Black. You have bound your souls to each other, and now I hear you have the wish to bind yourselves to me. Is this what you desire?”

“It is,” Regulus spoke confidently, eyes revealing his excitement. 

“Primrose?” The figure coaxed, turning slightly to face the new bride.

“I go where Regulus goes,” Primrose vowed, taking her husband by the hand and smiling up at him fondly. “Of course it is.”

Regulus smiled softly at his wife, squeezing her hand as the couple exchanged another kiss.

“Please extend your wand hand towards me,” the figure rasped, pulling out a wand from the depths of its cloak.

Sharing one last look, the couple let go of each others hands before extending the two arms that had just been entwined out to the wizard.

The wizard flicked his wand, and two metallic quills and a bowl of ink hovered over to the center of the room. He took out a knife and cut his hand, the room completely silent as the assembly watched blood drip from his hand and into the inkwell.

“With this ink, we are bound,” he rasped as the quills dipped into the bowl, which was emitting a green glow.

“With this ink, we are bound,” the newlyweds repeated.

The wizard raised his wand, pointing it at the metallic quills. “Morsmordre!”

The two quills lurched forward as a green fog began to pour out of the bowl, wisps following the quills and circling the arms, obscuring them from view as the sound of ripping tore through the silence in the hall. Primrose’s face was contorted with pain, but she didn’t utter a sound as she lifted her chin, looking the cloaked figure directly in the face as the green mist enclosed both her and Regulus, hovering for a moment before fading away, revealing the couple standing together, gasping for air, arms still outstretched towards the wizard.

Turning to face the audience, the newlyweds raised their arms to the assembly, revealing the tattoo’s of a skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue, wreathing into the infinity symbol.

As the assembled wizards around Rosalind stood up and began to applaud the delighted newlyweds, Rosalind suddenly realized how heavily and quickly she was breathing. Her vision began to darken, specs of black spinning around her as she suddenly began to fall, and somewhere in the gathering darkness she heard her name.

“Rosa!”

Rosalind’s body jerked as if she had collided into the ground, and she found herself lying on the floor of her room in Gryffindor tower, with Ginny shaking her awake.

“Are you alright? I’ve been trying to snap you out of your spell for a few minutes!” Ginny gasped as Rosalind sat up, her vision spinning.

“It-it did something,” Rosalind gasped for air, clutching desperately at Ginny. 

“What?”

“I-I was here, but I wasn’t here,” Rosalind was shaking as she clutched at her friend. “It’s not safe, Ginny. Please, get rid of it.”

“The diary?”

Rosalind began to bawl. “It showed me — I never wanted to know, please, Ginny.”

Ginny looked down at Rosalind, tears forming in her eyes. “I know, Rosa. Tom, it showed me, I don’t exactly know what it was, but it wasn’t safe. I think it was Tom’s memory of the Chamber, I think he’s the one who opened it before. Rosa, I was so scared!”

“Get rid of it,” Rosalind gasped, coming to her senses as she sat up. “Now.”

“Come with me?” Ginny’s question came out a whisper as her cheeks grew wet with tears.

Nodding, Rosalind stood up and took Ginny’s hand, pulling her up next to her. They picked up the diary and headed out of the bedroom hand in hand.

“What are we going to do with it?” Ginny whispered as they climbed out of the portrait hole.

“I have an idea,” Rosalind murmured. “Follow me.”

Pulling the ginger after her, the two of them headed for the second floor, past the location of the first petrification, and into the gloomy girls bathroom.

“What?” Ginny looked around, confused. “What is this?”

“You don’t like it?” came a cry from inside one of the stalls.

“Don’t!” Rosalind gasped as Ginny tried to open the stall. “She can’t know we left it here!”

“Who’s out there?” the shrill voice of Moaning Myrtle came from the toilet, and the water in it began to bubble.

In an act of desperation, Rosalind threw the book into the toilet, Ginny hitting the dial to flush, and the two of them burst out of the bathroom and down to the great hall to avoid the flood of Myrtle’s ghostly tears that followed.

The next month passed quickly and uneventfully. After their exams, a new term started. Ginny no longer needed Madame Pomfrey’s potions to fall asleep. Valentine’s Day had come and gone uneventfully, despite Gilderoy Lockhart’s attempts to make it eventful. It was almost time for another anticipated Gryffindor Quidditch match. They were playing Hufflepuff, and Rosalind barely saw Harry outside of class anymore as a result. 

The morning of the Quidditch match Rosalind watched from her seat by Estelle as Oliver Wood loaded Harry’s plate with eggs, and he picked at his food.

“Like we’d lose against Hufflepuff,” Rosalind scoffed, sharing a look of amusement with Ginny.

“What?” Estelle looked up from the book she was reading.

“The Quidditch match?” Rosalind coaxed, waving her hand in front of her. “Hello, Earth to Elle!”

Estelle laughed and swatted Rosalind’s hand away, rolling her eyes.

“So, are you going, Ginny?” Estelle turned to where the ginger had a moment ago been sitting, but she had disappeared.

“Are we doing this again?” Estelle groaned as Rosalind looked around the hall, frowning. “Ginny hasn’t acted up for months, I like normal Ginny.”

“Yeah…” Rosalind sighed and turned to Estelle. “Me too. ”

Rosalind couldn’t find Ginny before the match started, so instead she went down with Ron. He had been unable to find Hermione, so the two of them found themselves in good company.

They watched from the stands as the teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madame Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics. 

Everyone was just mounting their brooms when Professor McGonagall came half-marching, half-running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

“This match has been cancelled,” Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts.

Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick. “But, Professor!” he shouted. “We’ve got to play — the cup —Gryffindor —” 

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: “All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!” 

Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her. 

“Merlin,” Ron sighed, running down from the stands with Rosalind at his side. “I don’t suppose you know what this is about?”

“It’s been months since the last attack,” Rosalind huffed, “but it’s not unlikely that something happened.”

Harry and Professor McGonagall looked up as Ron and Rosalind came up to them.

“Miss Black… Weasley… Yes, I suppose you ought to come as well.”

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being canceled; others looked worried. Harry Potter, Rosalind, and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren’t taken to anybody’s office this time. 

“This will be a bit of a shock,” said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. “There has been another attack… another double attack.” 

Rosalind’s insides did a horrible somersault. 

Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and they entered… Madame Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair.  And on the bed next to her was — 

“Hermione!” Ron groaned. 

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. 

“They were found near the library,” said Professor McGonagall. “I don’t suppose neither of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…” 

She was holding up a small, circular mirror. 

Rosalind, Harry, and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione. “I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” said Professor McGonagall heavily. “I need to address the students in any case.” 

“All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.” 

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. 

She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward.” She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately. 

“That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff, “ said the Weasley twins’ friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. “Haven’t any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin — why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?” he roared, to nods and scattered applause. 

Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn’t seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned. 

“Percy’s in shock,” George said quietly. “That Ravenclaw girl — Penelope Clearwater — she’s a prefect. I don’t think he thought the monster would dare attack a prefect.” 

“What are we going to do, Harry Potter?” Rosalind whispered, leaning closer to the Boy Who Lived.

“You aren’t doing anything,” Harry objected, shaking his head. “It’s dangerous to keep you involved. You’re only a first year.”

“And you’re only a second year,” Rosalind bristled. “What makes you so special?”

Harry Potter scowled and opened his mouth, but Ron put his hand over it.

“Shut up,” he told Harry. “She can help.”

“Yeah,” Rosalind looked loftily at Harry Potter. “I know that.”

“Hermione was researching something in the library before she was petrified,” Ron leaned forward, looking at Rosalind. “You’re just as studious as she is, and I know you were helping her research the chambers. If you can pick up where she left off, we could crack this faster.”

Rosalind nodded. “Thanks, Ron. I can always count on you to be open minded,”

Standing up and smiling at Ron, Rosalind turned her back to Harry and went to her room, feeling his eyes boring into her back.

The next morning everyone got the terrible news. Dumbledore was no longer headmaster of Hogwarts.

“We’re all doomed,” Ginny laughed, putting her head down onto her plate as Estelle and Rosalind looked on.


	6. The Chamber

The next day, after a rather somber breakfast, something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today. 

“Exams?” howled Seamus Finnigan. “We’re still getting exams?” 

There was a loud bang behind Harry Potter and Rosalind as Neville Longbottom’s wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus. 

“The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education,” she said sternly. “The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard.” 

Rosalind let out a snort of laughter, which she managed to poorly cover up with a few fake coughs, as both Harry Potter and Professor McGonagall turned to glare at her. She was very much aware that Harry Potter and Ron had been heavily relying on exams to be cancelled, and had teased Rosalind relentlessly for studying.

There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even darker.

“Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible, she said. “And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.” 

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast. 

“I have good news,” she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted. 

“Dumbledore’s coming back!” several people yelled joyfully. 

“You’ve caught the Heir of Slytherin!” squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table. 

“Quidditch matches are back on!” roared Oliver Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, “Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit.” 

Cheering erupted from the entire hall. Estelle gave Rosalind a hug so tight she couldn’t breathe. Across the hall, Stygian had jumped to his feet and was punching the air, nudging an all too enthusiastic Draco.

“Rosalind,” Ginny pulled her friend in close, whispering in her ear. “I need to show you something.”

“What is it, Gin?” Rosalind leaned closer to the ginger. “What’s wrong?”

Ginny’s whisper was barely audible over the noise in the great hall. “Look down.”

Rosalind looked down as Ginny opened up her bookbag, and her blood ran cold. Nestled amongst the textbook and notes, was a black leather diary that she hadn’t seen in months.

“How?” Rosalind looked up at Ginny, at a loss for words. “When? How long have you had this?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny looked terrified, blinking away tears. “It appeared a few days ago-”

“A few days?” Rosalind leaned away from her friend. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“I was scared that you’d think I went to get it after we threw it away!” Ginny’s voice was getting dangerously loud. “But I swear, Rosa, I swear I have no idea how I got it back!”

“It’s ok!” Rosalind put her hand on Ginny’s shoulder as people around them began to give them odd looks. “I believe you, Gin.”

“You do?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Rosalind sighed, twiddling her thumbs nervously. “Gin, this is bad. We have to tell someone.”

“Who?” Ginny looked worriedly around the room.

“Your brothers?” Rosalind looked down the table to where Ron, Fred, and George were sitting with Harry Potter.

“Yeah…” Ginny took a deep breath as she looked down at them. “You’re right.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Rosalind offered as Ginny’s hands tightened around the straps of her bookbag.

Ginny shook her head. “No… if I’m telling family, then I believe it would be best if I did it alone.”

Rosalind nodded, giving Ginny a squeeze on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Estelle leaned over to Rosalind as Ginny cautiously went over to her brothers. “What’s up with Ginny?”

Rosalind turned to Estelle. “What?”

“Come on,” Estelle scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not that dumb. In fact, behind you, I’m top of the class.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Rosalind teased, giving Estelle a nudge.

“Rosalind.” Estelle glared at her. “I’m serious.”

Rosalind sighed and sagged her shoulders. “Look, Elle, even if I wanted to tell you, it wouldn’t be my place-”

“Ginny is-”

“I know Ginny’s acting crazy but-”

“No, Rosa!” Estelle pointed behind her. “Turn around!”

Whipping her head around Rosalind caught a glimpse of ginger hair dashing out of the great hall. A quick glance up the table showed that it was Ginny making a quick escape, and judging by the confusion on Harry and Ron’s faces, she hadn’t told them about the diary.

“Merlin help me,” Rosalind sighed, jumping up from the table and running out of the great hall. 

She had barely taken four steps out of the hall when a sharp “Miss Black!” made her freeze in her spot.

“Professor McGonagall,” Rosalind turned to the teacher as she walked up to her.

“And where are you off to? Why in such a hurry?” Professor McGonagall tilted her head at Rosalind. “And why on your own? You know the rules, Miss Black. Students must remain occupied by an adult at all times.”

“I was going to the library,” Rosalind said quickly. “The first end of year exams are so daunting, I need to study as much as possible.”

“Ah,” Professor McGonagall nodded and began to head down the hall. “Well, don’t let me stand in your way. Come along.”

“What?” Rosalind look up at her Professor, confused.

“The Library, Miss Black,” Professor McGonagall turned around to look at her. “I’m sure I can have Miss Pince watch you once we are inside, so as to… guarantee your safety.”

“You’re sly, Professor McGonagall,” Rosalind smirked, following her down the hallway.

“It comes with age, Miss Black. And besides,” Professor McGonagall looked back with a glint in her eyes, “you first years aren’t nearly as smart as you think.”

Seeing as how she had no choice but to follow through with her lie, Rosalind followed Professor McGonagall up to the library. She was seated at a table nearby the librarian, Miss Pince. The librarian had been surprising helpful the past few weeks, assisting Rosalind in locating the books Hermione had been reading before her petrification. 

Rosalind was skimming through a library book so old it was near impossible to read the cover, but the pages inside were still intact and legible. As she stopped near the end of the book, Rosalind groaned and put her head down on the book.

“What were you looking for, Hermione?” Rosalind whispered, sitting up and running her hand over the page in front of her. To her surprise, her fingers caught on something near the spine of the book.

Sitting up, Rosalind squinted down at the spine as her fingers found an edge of a piece of paper.

“What the…” Rosalind leaned down, carefully looking the spine up and down. Someone had ripped a page out of the book.

Quickly flicking back to the table of contents, Rosalind scanned for the missing pages number, running the book over to Madame Pince.

“Excuse me, Madame Pince?” Rosalind didn’t wait for acknowledgement from the librarian as she slammed the book down in front of her. “Where can I find more information about… this?”

Madame Pince glared at Rosalind before looking over to the word Rosalind was pointing to. “A Basilisk? Why would you need to look at a dark creature like that?”

“Madame Pince, please!” Rosalind begged the librarian, desperation showing in her eyes.

Madame Pince hesitated a moment, but then gave a sigh. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Fifty-Second edition. Aisle five, on your right.”

Giving the shocked librarian a peck on the cheek, Rosalind ran to the aisle and frantically skimmed the shelves, quickly pulling out the book. Flipping open to the page on Basilisks, Rosalind read aloud to herself as she paced back and forth.

“Basilisk, King of Serpents. Classification XXXXX… brilliant green serpent up to fifty feet… large yellow eyes… instant death… uncontrollable expect by parselmouths…” Rosalind looked up towards the door to the library, the book dropping from her hands. “Harry Potter.”

Running towards the door, Rosalind managed to yell a quick, “Thanks, Madame Pince!”

The librarian was yelling after Rosalind as she slid out of the library, running full speed for the grand staircase. Taking the steps two at a time, Rosalind rounded a bend quickly, barely able to stop in time as she came face to face with breathless Ron and Harry.

“Harry Potter!” Rosalind gasped, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Listen, I found-”

“Not now, Rosa,” Harry shrugged her away. “We need to tell Professor McGonagall-”

“But, I know-

“-about the Basilisk!” They finished in unison, staring at each other.

“How did you know?” Ron looked from Harry to Rosalind, confused. 

Rosalind grinned. “Hermione left a paper trail in the library. How did you know?”

Harry held up a torn and crumpled page from a book. “Hermione left a paper trail.”

“What now?” Rosalind gasped as Harry shoved the page back into his pocket. 

“Now,” Harry grabbed her by the arm and continued up the staircase, “we go to Professor McGonagall. In the staff room. The teachers will be there any moment now, on break.”

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. 

But the bell to signal break never came. Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall’s voice, magically magnified. 

“All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.” 

Harry wheeled around to stare at them. “Not another attack? Not now?” 

“What’ll we do?” said Ron, aghast. “Go back to the dormitory?” 

“No,” said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers’ cloaks. “In here. Let’s hear what it’s all about. Then we can tell them what we’ve found out.” 

They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. 

Then Professor McGonagall arrived. 

“It has happened,” she told the silent staff room. “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.” 

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Professor Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, “How can you be sure?” 

“The Heir of Slytherin,” said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’ ” 

Professor Flitwick burst into tears. 

“Who is it?” said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. “Which student?” 

“Ginny Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall. 

Harry put his hand over Rosalind's mouth the silence the gasp she had let escape. Beside them, Rosalind was sliding down the wall of the wardrobe onto the floor.

The staffroom door banged open again. It was Lockhart, and he was beaming. 

“So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?” 

He didn’t seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Professor Snape stepped forward. 

“Just the man,” he said. “The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.” 

Lockhart blanched. 

“That’s right, Gilderoy,” chipped in Professor Sprout. “Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” 

“I — well, I —”sputtered Lockhart. 

“Yes, didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?” piped up Professor Flitwick. 

“D-did I? I don’t recall —” 

“I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested,” said Snape. “Didn’t you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?” 

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues. “I — I really never — you may have misunderstood —” 

“We’ll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy,” said Professor McGonagall. “Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of your way. You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.” 

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn’t look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble. 

“V-very well,” he said. “I’ll — I’ll be in my office, getting — getting ready.” 

And he left the room. 

“Right,” said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, “that’s got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories.” 

The teachers rose and left, one by one. 

No afternoon ever lasted as long as that one, nor had Gryffindor Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. As the hours passed, students went up in silent pairs to their rooms to turn in for the night, but Rosalind sat in the common room, staring into the fire. If she hadn’t left Ginny, if she had focused more on her friend than pulling off a lie, or if she’d just told Professor McGonagall the truth, then Ginny would be here right now.

A tap on her shoulder made Rosalind jump, but she looked up to see Harry and Ron standing over her.

The pair exchanged a glance before looking down at her.

“Come on,” said Harry, tugging at her arm. “We need to tell Lockhart what we know.”

Nodding silently, Rosalind stood up and followed the pair out of the room. 

The Gryffindors around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys, that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left through the portrait hole. 

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart’s office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps. 

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart’s eyes peering through it. 

“Oh — Mr. Potter — Mr. Weasley — Miss Black,” he said, opening the door a bit wider. “I’m rather busy at the moment —if you would be quick —” 

“Professor, we’ve got some information for you,” said Harry. “We think it’ll help you.” 

“Er — well — it’s not terribly —” The side of Lockhart’s face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. “I mean — well — all right —” 

He opened the door and they entered. His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk. 

“Are you going somewhere?” said Harry. 

“Er, well, yes,” said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. “Urgent call — unavoidable — got to go —” 

“What about my sister?” said Ron jerkily. 

“Well, as to that — most unfortunate —” said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. “No one regrets more than I —” 

“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!” said Harry. “You can’t go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!” 

“Well — I must say — when I took the job —” Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. “nothing in the job description — didn’t expect —” 

“You mean you’re running away?” said Harry disbelievingly. “After all that stuff you did in your books —” 

“Books can be misleading,” said Lockhart delicately. 

“You wrote them!” Rosalind shouted, clenching her fists. 

“My dear girl,” said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. “Do use your common sense. My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on —” 

“So you’ve just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?” said Harry incredulously. 

“Harry, Harry,” said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, “it’s not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms. No, it’s been a lot of work, Harry. It’s not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.” 

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them. 

“Let’s see,” he said. “I think that’s everything. Yes. Only one thing left.” He pulled out his wand and turned to them. “Awfully sorry, boys, but I’ll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can’t have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I’d never sell another book —” 

Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, “Expelliarmus!” 

Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window. 

“Shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one,” said Harry furiously, kicking Lockhart’s trunk aside. 

Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him. 

“What d’you want me to do?” said Lockhart weakly. “I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“You’re in luck,” said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. “We think we know where it is. And what’s inside it. Let’s go.” 

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. They sent Lockhart in first. Harry was pleased to see that he was shaking. 

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she said when she saw Harry. “What do you want this time?” 

“To ask you how you died,” said Harry. 

Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question. 

“Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said with relish. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —” Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. “I died.” 

“How?” said Harry.

“No idea,” said Myrtle in hushed tones. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…” 

She looked dreamily at Harry. “And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.” 

“Where exactly did you see the eyes?” said Rosalind, looking around the bathroom. 

“Somewhere there,” said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet. 

Harry and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face. It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry saw it: Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake. 

“That tap’s never worked,” said Myrtle brightly as he tried to turn it. 

“Harry,” said Ron. “Say something. Something in Parseltongue.” 

“But —” Harry frowned for a moment before turning towards the sink. “Open up.”

He looked at Ron, who shook his head. 

“English,” Ron said. 

Harry shook his shoulders loose and turned back to the sink, focusing intently on the small, carved, snake. A strange hissing escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Harry looked up “I’m going down there,” he said. 

“Me too,” said Ron. 

“I’m not staying behind,” Rosalind stepped forward, gripping her wand.

There was a pause. 

“Well, you hardly seem to need me,” said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. “I’ll just —” 

He put his hand on the door knob, but Ron and Harry both pointed their wands at him. 

“You can go first,” Ron snarled. 

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening. 

“Now,” he said, his voice feeble. “Now, what good will it do?” 

Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe. 

“I really don’t think —” he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight. Harry looked at Rosalind and gave a jerk of his head. She lowered herself slowly into the pipe, then let go. 

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. She could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and she knew that she was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. Behind her she could hear Ron, thudding slightly at the curves. And then, just as she had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and she shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in.

Lockhart was getting to his feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost. Rosalind stood aside as Ron came whizzing out of the pipe, quickly followed by Harry. 

“We must be miles under the school,” said Harry, his voice echoing in the black tunnel. 

“Under the lake, probably,” said Ron, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls. 

All four of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead. 

Rosalind shivered and held out her wand. “Lumos!”

“Lumos!” Harry muttered to his wand, following Rosalind’s example. 

“C’mon,” he said to Ron and Lockhart, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.  

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight. 

“Remember,” Harry said quietly as they walked cautiously forward, “any sign of movement, close your eyes right away…” 

“Roger that,” Rosalind muttered, looking back to make sure Lockhart was keeping up with them.

But the tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch from Ron. Harry lowered his wand to look at the floor, and illuminated the stone littered small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Ginny might look like if they found her, Rosalind followed Harry around a dark bend in the tunnel. 

“Harry — there’s something up there —” said Ron hoarsely, grabbing Harry’s shoulder. 

They froze, watching. The outline of something huge and curved sat, illuminated, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn’t moving. 

“Maybe it’s asleep,” Harry breathed, glancing back at the others. 

Lockhart’s hands were pressed over his eyes. 

Very slowly they edged forward, wands held high. The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least. 

“Blimey,” said Ron weakly.

Rosalind took a step closer to Harry Potter, holding her wand up to illuminate the size of the skin. It stretched out and curled throughout the cavern, beyond the illumination of their wands.

There was a sudden movement behind them. Gilderoy Lockhart’s knees had given way. 

“Get up,” said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart. 

Lockhart got to his feet — then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground. Harry jumped forward, but too late — Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron’s wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face. 

“The adventure ends here, boys!” he said. “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body — say good-bye to your memories!” 

He raised Ron’s Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, “Obliviate!” 

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Rosalind dove towards Ron, pulling him back as rock rained down where the snake skin had been, filling the air with dust.

As it cleared, Ron, Rosalind, and a dazed Lockhart were left looking up in astonishment at the rock barricade between them and Harry Potter.

“Ron! Rosalind!” came muffled shouts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m here!” Ron shouted back with a glance at Rosalind. “We’re both okay — this git’s not, though — he got blasted by the wand —” 

Ron went over and gave Lockhart a swift kick in the shins, and he let out a pained “ow!”

“What now?” Ron’s voice said, sounding desperate. “We can’t get through — it’ll take ages…” 

Rosalind looked up at the rockfall. It reached the ceiling of the tunnel, and large cracks ran along the roof.

“Wait there,” Harry called back to them. “Wait with Lockhart. I’ll go on… If I’m not back in an hour…” 

There was a very pregnant pause.

“We’ll try and shift some of this rock,” said Ron, who seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. “So you can — can get back through. And, Harry —” 

“See you in a bit,” came a shout from the other side.

Rosalind stood there, breathing heavily, as Ron went over to check on Lockhart.

“Harry!” She cried out, running towards the rockfall. “Harry Potter!”

“Rosa!” Ron ran after her, pulling her down. “Rosa, calm down!”

“How can you be so calm?” Rosalind spat, struggling against Ron.

“Because I’m used to this!” Ron threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “And if we brought you with us because you’re smart, and you’re useful.”

Rosalind didn’t say anything, just took a few steadying breaths. “Right, right.”

“You good?” Ron look Rosalind in the eyes.

“I’m good, I can work.”

“Good,” Ron looked up at the rockfall. “How about you climb up top and see what you can shift from there, I need to check on Lockhart. He’s not looking too good.”

“Okay,” Rosalind nodded, climbing her way up the rockfall. She made her way along the top, looking for a place they could form a gap without causing the tunnel to cave in. Eventually, she found it; a small hole, just large enough for her to stick her wand through and illuminate the other side. 

“Ron!” Rosalind called down to him excitedly. “Over here!”

Pebbles scattered down the pile as Ron scrambled up to where Rosalind clung to the wall, inspecting the hole she had made. 

“Alright,” Ron gritted his teeth and spat onto his hands, grabbing hold of a larger rock and pulling it loose from the rockfall. It clattered down to the tunnel floor, cracking into smaller pieces as it landed on the bottom.

“You’re strong,” Rosalind admired, winking at Ron as he puffed out his chest. “But, you’re also stupid.”

Ron glared at Rosalind, crossing his arms. “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you do it?”

“Gladly,” Rosalind puffed, pulling out her wand. She pointed it at a visibly loose rock pressed between the ceiling and the top of the rockfall, making sure it was larger than the one Ron had just moved. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Guided by her wand, the rock wiggled out of the rockfall and floated down to the ground with ease.

“Show off,” Ron muttered. “I don’t have a wand. Lockhart exploded mine.”

“I almost forgot about him,” Rosalind admitted, looking down to where their Professor was lying on the floor, staring up at the rocky ceiling. “Is he… alright?”

Ron gave a shrug, tossing another rock down. “Bloke can’t seem to remember who he is.”

Rosalind opened her mouth to respond, but Ron quickly put a hand over it. “Shh, can you hear that?”

Leaning closer the the gap they had made, Rosalind could just make out a distant scream, echoing throughout the cavern.

“We have to help!” Rosalind gasped, quickly moving another rock out of the way.

“How?” Ron gasped, tossing a rock down to the ground. “I don’t have a wand, and even if I did I can’t fit through this hole!”

Rosalind looked from the hole, to Ron, and back again. “But, I can.”

Ron barely had time to process what she had said. Grabbing hold of a crack in the ceiling, Rosalind put her feet through the gap, lowering herself through it and to the other side. 

“Rosa!” Ron grabbed her hand before she managed to get it through. “Be careful.”

Rosalind looked up at Ron through the hole, igniting her wand so he could see her salute him, before heading out into the darkness. She followed the passage as it curved, and saw a cracked wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.  They towered over her as Rosalind hesitantly approached the crack in the wall, realizing that it was this must be the actual entrance to the chamber.

Creeping inside, Rosalind ran to left of the room, trying to control her frantic breathing as she slowly made her way down the cavern, running from pillar to pillar.  She drew level with the last pair of pillars, crouching down in the shadow of the one on the left. A statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. 

Rosalind had to crane her neck to look up into the giant face above; it was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, faceup, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair. 

“Ginny,” Rosalind whispered, eyes sweeping the room past Ginny, her heart dropping. “Oh no… Harry…”

Lying slumped up against the wall was Harry Potter. He arm was hanging at an awkward angle, soaked through with blood. To his left was the enormous corpse of the basilisk, a long sword studded with rubies sticking out of its green neck. A phoenix had fluttered down next to Harry, and was nuzzling his bleeding wound, but he barely seemed aware of it.

As Rosalind prepared to run out and help, a figure stepped out from beyond the basilisk, towering over Harry.

“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” the strangers voice echoed through the chamber. “Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Do you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying.” 

The phoenix’s head sunk closer to Harry Potter. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down its glossy feathers. 

“I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” 

Rosalind fell back against the wall and, as slowly as she dared, crept her way along the stone. If she could get to the foot of the statue, she could grab Ginny and make a run for it. Then at least one person would be safe. 

“So ends the famous Harry Potter,” said the strangers distant voice, echoing through the chamber and masking the noise of Rosalind’s feet. “Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You’ll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… she bought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…” 

Rosalind held her breath as she reached the edge of the statue, falling down to her knees to peer around the gigantic stone feet. The stranger had leaned in close to Harry, watching in fascination as the Boy Who Lived slowly died. There was something about him that seemed eerily familiar… 

Taking her chance, Rosalind came out from behind the statue, keeping low to the floor as she crept over to Ginny. 

“Get away!” came a shout, causing Rosalind to freeze in her tracks. 

She dared to glance up, watching as the man drew his wand to chase the phoenix away from Harry. “Get away from him — I said, get away —”

“Tom,” Rosalind whispered, cold fear creeping through her skin. 

Harry raised his head, alarm lighting his eyes as he caught sight of Rosalind next to Ginny. 

Riddle was pointing Harry’s wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet, dropping down next to Rosalind and Ginny a familiar black diary… 

“Phoenix tears…” said Tom Riddle quietly, staring at Harry’s arm. “Of course… healing powers… I forgot…” 

He looked into Harry’s face. “But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…” 

He raised the wand… 

“Harry!” Rosalind cried out, tossing him the black diary.

“What?” Tom Riddle glanced for a split second at Rosalind, his eyes burning, a red glow seemed to come from them. “Black, keep out of this!”

For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book. 

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry’s hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then — he had gone. 

Harry’s wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it. 

“Harry!” Rosalind gasped, running forward and helping him up. “Harry Potter, what-”

“What were you thinking?” Harry gasped, grabbing Rosalind by the shoulders. “You can’t put yourself in danger like this again!”

“You do it all the time!” Rosalind objected, shrugging off his hands and crossing her arms. 

“You can’t get hurt!” Harry hissed, hand trembling as it gripped the worn and torn diary.

Rosalind scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “I’ll help when I can. I don’t need your permission. Beside’s I’m not the Boy Who Lived. I’m not that important.”

“You are…” Harry choked out, looking away from Rosalind, face reddening. “... to me…”

Rosalind stared at him, her face growing hot.

For a second, Harry Potter looked at her. Rosalind held her breath as their eyes met… 

Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Ginny was stirring. 

Rosalind immediately ran over to her, kneeling down next to her. “Ginny!”

As Harry hurried toward her, she sat up. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face. 

“Rosa — oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn’t say it in front of Percy — it was me, Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and — how did you kill that — that thing? W-where’s Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —” 

“ It’s all right,” said Harry, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the fang hole, “Riddle’s finished. Look! Him and the basilisk.” 

“B-basilisk?” Ginny couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

Rosalind helped her up, putting an arm around her waist to support her friend. “C’mon, let’s get out of here —” 

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept as Harry took Ginny from the other side. “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I’ll have to leave and — w-what’ll Mum and Dad say?” 

“It’ll be okay, Gin,” Rosalind soothed as they stumbled down the chamber.

The phoenix was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. It crooned at Harry, lighting the way for them as they got past the chamber entrance, and the serpentine doors closed behind them with a hiss. 

After a few minutes’ progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached their ears. 

“Ron!” Harry yelled, speeding them up. “Ginny’s okay! I’ve got her!” 

Ron give a strangled cheer, and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall. 

“Ginny!” Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. “You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened? How — what — where did that bird come from?” 

The phoenix had swooped through the gap after Ginny as Rosalind followed.

“This is Fawkes, he’s Dumbledore’s,” said Harry, squeezing through himself. 

“How come you’ve got a sword?” said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry’s hand. 

“I’ll explain when we get out of here,” said Harry, exchanging a bemused glance with Rosalind before turning away, blushing. Behind them, Ginny was crying harder than ever. 

“But —” 

“Later,” Harry said shortly. “Where’s Lockhart?” 

“Back there,” said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. “He’s in a bad way. Come and see.” 

Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself. 

“His memory’s gone,” said Ron. “The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn’t got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He’s a danger to himself.” 

Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all. 

“Hello,” he said. “Odd sort of place, this, isn’t it? Do you live here?”

“No,” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry. Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe. 

“Have you thought how we’re going to get back up this?” he said to Ron. 

Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked uncertainly at him. 

“He looks like he wants you to grab hold…” said Ron, looking perplexed. “But you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there —” 

“Fawkes,” said Harry, “isn’t an ordinary bird.” 

He turned quickly to the others. “We’ve got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron’s hand. Professor Lockhart —” 

“He means you,” said Ron sharply to Lockhart. 

“You hold Ginny’s other hand —” 

Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Ron took hold of the back of Harry’s robes, and Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes’s strangely hot tail feathers, before turning around and offering his hand to Rosalind. Grinning, she took it. 

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through her whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. Rosalind could hear Lockhart dangling below him, saying, “Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!” The chill air was whipping through Rosalind’s hair, and before she’d stopped enjoying the ride, it was over — all five of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place. 

Myrtle goggled at them. 

“You’re alive,” she said blankly to Harry. 

“There’s no need to sound so disappointed,” he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses. 

“Yeah, Myrtle,” Rosalind chortled as she helped Ginny up from where she had fallen to her knees, sniffling. “Someone might think you missed us.”

“Oh, well… I’d just been thinking… if you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet,” said Myrtle, blushing silver as she looked at Harry. 

“Urgh!” said Ron as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. “Harry! I think Myrtle’s grown fond of you! You’ve got competition, Ginny!” 

Tears were still flooding silently down Ginny’s face. 

“Where now?” said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry pointed. 

Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry knocked and pushed the door open. 

Rosalind stood back as Harry, Ron, and Ginny ran inside. The Weasley family was waiting inside, and a woman who must have been Mrs. Weasley was clinging to Ginny and the two of them were sobbing so hard it was a surprise the room wasn’t shaking. 

While Harry Potter filled Professor McGonagall in on what had happened, Rosalind looked around the room, surprised to see Professor Dumbledore perched by the fireplace. The Headmaster looked at Rosalind with a twinkle in his eye before clearing his throat, addressing Harry Potter.

“What interests me most,” said Dumbledore gently, “is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.” 

“W-what’s that?” said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. “You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny’s not… Ginny hasn’t been… has she?” 

“It was this diary,” said Harry quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. “Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…” 

Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages. 

“Brilliant,” he said softly. “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.” He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered. 

“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.” 

“But, Ginny,” said Mrs. Weasley. “What’s our Ginny got to do with — with — him?” 

“His d-diary” Ginny sobbed. “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year —” 

“Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything. What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain? Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!’ 

“I d-didn’t know,” sobbed Ginny. “I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it —” 

“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away,” Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.” He strode over to the door and opened it. “Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,” he added, twinkling kindly down at her. “You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out Mandrake juice — I daresay the basilisk’s victims will be waking up any moment.” 

“So Hermione’s okay!” said Ron brightly. 

“There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny,” said Dumbledore. 

Rosalind went up to Ginny, taking her by the hand. “Everyone’s ok, Ginny! Come on, we can go see Colin! He’ll be so mad he missed out on Harry saving the day again.”

Dumbledore let out a chuckle as Mrs. Weasley and Rosalind led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, looking deeply shaken.  

“I don’t believe I got your name,” Mrs. Weasley looked over at Rosalind as the four of them climbed the steps to the infirmary.

“Rosalind,” Rosalind smiled kindly at Mrs. Weasley. “I’m a friend of Ginny’s.”

“Rosalind,” Mrs. Weasley nodded, exchanging a look with her husband. “And, your surname?”

Rosalind gave a swallow, her smile dropping from her face. “Rosalind… Rosalind Black.”

Mrs. Weasley gave a small gasp, and Mr. Weasley gave Rosalind a sharp look, as they approached the doors to the infirmary.

“Arthur, will you escort Ginny inside?” Mrs. Weasley looked at her husband pointedly, and he gave a quick nod before opening the door and leading Ginny into the busy hospital wing.

“Miss Black,” Mrs. Weasley looked down at Rosalind, who had tears in her eyes.

“Please don’t make Ginny stop being my friend!” Rosalind cried out, her cheeks growing wet with tears. “I-”

Mrs. Weasley cut Rosalind off as she drew her into a hug, letting Rosalind sob into her shoulders.

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Weasley let go, holding Rosalind at arms length and smiling softly. “You helped save my Ginevra, I could never hold anything against you after this.”

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences — Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled (“but we’ve had plenty of practice at that anyway,” Ron told a disgruntled Hermione). Colin was awake, and very much upset he hadn't been conscious to witness not just Harry, but Rosalind as well, discovering the Chamber of Secrets. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again. 

Too soon, their first year at Hogwarts had ended. Rosalind spent the train ride home the same way she had spent the train ride there. After a few hours with her brother and his friends, some of who were sulking about not winning the House Cup tournament, Rosalind migrated to where Estelle, Collin, and a few other first years were sitting, excitedly talking about the upcoming year and exchanging addresses so they could send owls to each other.

For the last two hours or so of the ride, Rosalind went to the compartment Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got to themselves. They were making the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. Harry was getting very good at it. 

They were almost at King’s Cross when Harry turned to Ginny. 

“Ginny – what did you see Percy doing, that he didn’t want you to tell anyone?” 

“Oh, that,” said Ginny, giggling. “Well — Percy’s got a girlfriend.” 

Fred dropped a stack of books on George’s head. 

“What?” 

“It’s that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater,” said Ginny. “That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was — you know — attacked. You won’t tease him, will you?” she added anxiously. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early. 

“Definitely not,” said George, sniggering. 

When the train pulled into Kings Cross, Rosalind was slightly let down to see her mother, Primrose Black, waiting expectantly on the platform. Her narrow face didn’t convey any emotion as Rosalind disembarked the train, pulling her trunk after her. 

“Let me,” came a voice from behind Rosalind, and she turned around to see Harry Potter picking up the other end of her trunk.

Grinning nervously, Rosalind looked at Harry and led him over till they were near her mother, but still out of earshot.

“Thanks, Harry,” Rosalind sighed, giving her mother a look as she ran forward to help Stygian with his trunk.

Harry watched her go, turning to Rosalind with red cheeks. “So, I’ll uh, see you next year?”

Rosalind grinned and nodded, blushing as Harry walked away, waving. 

She gave a sigh and sunk onto her trunk.

“See you next year.”


	7. Bloodline

“Come on, Rosa! Hurry up!”

Rosalind turned to her brother, bristling. “I’m packing as fast as I can, Styg! Maybe it would go faster if I had some help, but instead you’d rather stand there and YELL AT ME!”

Stygian took a steadying breath, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You’re right, what do you need help with?”

Rosalind gestured towards her wardrobe, which she had hastily ripped all of her clothes out of. “Help me fold all these.”

Stygian didn’t say anything as he kneeled down, picking up a Gryffindor cardigan and folding it neatly before placing it into her trunk.

It was the first day of August; there was still a whole month before Rosalind and Stygian could leave London for school, but they had to think ahead and pack everything they would need now. It was the one chance they would get.

Rosalind perked her ears, listening to the snippets of conversation from the Ministry Aurors as they walked up and down their hallway.

“—can’t begin to guess how he did it—”

“—shapeshifting —— surprised the dementors didn’t—”

“—if Sirius Black knew——could kill them.”

Stygian poked Rosalind in the side, drawing her attention away from the hallway. “Check your room, make sure you don't need anything else. I’ll finish with your clothes.”

Rosalind gave Stygian a stiff nod, standing up and walking around her room, cursing to herself. Their summer had been dull and uneventful, as most summers go. Several days a week they accompanied their mother to work, where she arranged for tutors to keep them busy while she worked with the Minister. The days they didn’t go they kept busy, reading, writing, walking around their neighborhood.

It was… fine.

Definitely preferable to running to a safehouse out of fear of your deranged Uncle.

“I’m done!” Stygian called to Rosalind, looking over to where she was grabbing an armful of books. “Are you sure you need those?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t pack any,” Rosalind scoffed, tossing the books into the trunk and slamming it shut, sitting down on the lid to secure it.

“Touche,” Stygian winked, opening up the door and coming face to face with a tall, dark, Auror.

“All set, Mister Black? Miss Black?”

“Kingsley!” Rosalind grinned at their Defence Against the Dark Arts tutor. “I just finished packing.

Kingsley nodded and whipped out his wand, flicking it at the trunk Rosalind was sitting on. She hastily slid off as the trunk began to float along behind Kingsley, and the auror led it down the hall to where her mother and Stygian’s trunks were waiting by the door.

“Rosa,” came a soft spoken but stern voice Rosalind didn’t want to hear at the moment. “Come here.”

As Kingsley went to load their trunks into the Ministry provided car, Rosalind straightened her back as she walked up to Primrose Black. Her mother's hair was in its usual, tight bun, and her green eyes, the only trait she had from her mother, glittered.

“Where are we going?” Rosalind demanded as her mother put a hand on her shoulder.

“Someplace safer than here,” Primrose gave Rosalind a poisonous look. “I expect you to behave and cooperate with the Aurors that will be guarding us until you go off to school.”

Rosalind huffed but knew better than to say anything, turning back towards the door.

“Are we ready?” Stygian asked as Kingsley came back inside, eyes sweeping the apartment.

Kingsley gave Stygian a single nod. “Come with me, quickly.”

Grabbing the cage of their family owl, a spotted owl named Noble, Rosalind ran after her mother to the car, Kingsley bringing up the rear of their group. Two other aurors were watching the skies, wands drawn, as the family clambered into the car.

“Everyone buckled?” Stygian attempted to joke as the car pulled away from their house, the Rosier estate.

No one responded, though Primrose did look over at Stygian for a split second.

Sighing, Rosalind pulled a wrinkled paper out of her pocket, reading over the all too familiar words of the letter she had been trying to figure out a response to for over a week.

Hey Rosa,

Life’s a downright mess over here. I haven’t seen anyone since school got out. My aunt has got us all preparing the house for my uncle's sister, Marge. She’s a mean one; her face looks like a pitbull and her body like a hippopotamus (not sure if you know what those are, they’re non-magical creature).

Ron tried to call me, once. He yelled into the phone and scared my uncle out of his mind.

I’m not allowed to use the phone anymore.

Ron and Hermione are trying to get me out to go shopping in Diagon Alley, maybe you could join us there. I know I would love to Ginny would love to see you. Maybe you could even come back to the Weasley’s, then we could go to the train together.

Write back quickly! I can’t wait to hear from you.

Harry Potter

“We’re here.”

Rosalind looked up as Kingsley spoke, pulling the car over to the side of the road. To their right was the Leaky Cauldron in all its glory; the muggle on the street hustled by the bar without a second glance.

Rosalind and Stygian climbed out of the car in a hurry, Primrose taking Stygian by the hand, who took Rosalind by her hand, and pulling them into the restaurant hastily.

The bartender looked up at them as they entered, frowning wearily. “Kingsley with ye?”

“He’s bringing in the trunk with Williamson and Savage,” Primrose spoke briskly as she nodded at the bartender. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Tom.”

Tom gave a grunt, nodding once at the group before returning to polishing glasses. “Just be quick; hopefully I’ll make a few sickles today once you lot are secure.”

While Tom spoke, Kingsley, Williamson, and Savage came into the bar, floating the trunks behind them.

“Kingsley,” Tom nodded once at the auror. “Ye all set?”

“Lead on,” Kingsley replied, eyes darting back and forth.

Tom led the group up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number thirteen on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him.

“Magic number it is, thirteen,” he said with a wink at Rosalind as she walked past him into the room, smiling shyly.

Inside was some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire, and a kitchenette. Off to one side were three open doors; one bathroom, one master bedroom with a rather comfortable looking bed, and another bedroom with two plush twin beds.

“Welcome to your new home.” Kingsley let Primrose’s trunk float into the master bedroom before turning to face the family. “You are, of course, aware of why you are here, and why the ministry feels these precautions need to be taken place.’

Sirius Black, your uncle, has escaped from Azkaban. Given the circumstances of his imprisonment, we feel it is safer for your family to be moved.”

“What’s so safe about Diagon Alley?” Rosalind interrupted, crossing her arms and looking up at Kingsley challengingly.

“Rosalind Black!” Primrose hissed, face flushing as she shot a glare at her daughter.

“It’s alright, Primrose,” Kingsley looked over at Rosalind. “You’re safer in a public location where more people can watch you. Here, in the case Sirius Black does manage to get this far, people will recognize him.”

Rosalind sighed and nodded, lowering her head.

“Some ground rules,” Kingsley continued as Williamson and Savage went from room to room, securing them. “These are for you two, Rosalind, Stygian. You two must stick together, at all times. You are, of course, allowed to leave the room and explore Diagon Alley. However, Knockturn Alley and Muggle London are strictly off limits. In addition, if you two wish to leave the Leaky Cauldron, you must be accompanied by one of the two aurors that will be on duty. Do I make myself clear?”

Rosalind and Stygian exchanged a glance before looking up at Kingsley, nodding.

Kingsley nodded back at them. “Good.”

Walking towards the door, Kingsley paused and looked back. “One more thing, no sending owls.”

“What?!” Rosalind clenched her fists. “Why not?”

“It risks compromising your location,” Kingsley snapped, glaring at Rosalind. “If you have a problem with that, Miss Black, then we will have no choice but to take your family owl from this household.”

Rosalind sighed and bowed her head. “I understand, Kingsley.”

“Good,” Kingsley gave her a curt nod. “Then I wish you all a pleasant evening; I must be off. The Minister is expecting a report.”

“Thank you, Kingsley,” Primrose Black put her hand on the aurors shoulder. “For everything.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt gave her a single nod before heading out the door.

“Alright,” Primrose turned to her children, hands on her hips. “This is our life now, so let’s make the most of the situation.”

Rosalind and Stygian exchanged a glance, but didn’t say anything other than a swift goodnight to their mother, before retiring to their new room for the evening.

For the next two weeks, Rosalind and Stygian kept themselves busy. They spent several days tailed by aurors, scouring the shops of diagon alley for the perfect school supplies. Florean Fortescue, owner of the ice cream parlor, was aware of their situation, and offered them free ice cream every time they came in. Rosalind was eager to try every flavor he had, while Stygian alternated between salted caramel blondie, or sticky toffee pudding. Everyone, including the siblings, was doing their best to put the escaped criminal in the back of their minds, but as more and more wanted posters were put up throughout the alley it became harder and harder.

Aside from Kingsley, Williamson, and Savage, two other aurors were set guarding their family; John Dawlish and, Rosalind's favorite, Nymphadora Tonks. While Dawlish could tolerate Stygian and Rosalind’s hours upon hours spent in Obscurus Books and Secondhand Bookshop, Tonks would encourage them to try stores such as Broomstix and Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. Rosalind even managed to convince Tonks to give her a few flying lessons, but after they nearly got caught by Kingsley, they came to a mutual agreement to play it safe.

Primrose Black was rarely around; she was so busy assisting the Minister that she barely had time for her children. When they did see her, it was for the occasional quick word before she left for work in the morning, or odd comment after dinner when she got back to their room and went straight to bed. The aurors did what they could to keep the siblings informed of their mothers whereabouts and actions, but they didn’t seem to realize that Stygian and Rosalind were used to their mothers work driven lifestyle by now.

She was sure it was just to rub salt in the wound, but Kingsley would occasionally drop off letters Rosalind had received from her friends. As the month of August passed by she got one more from Harry, one from Ron, two from Hermione, and several from Ginny, Estelle, and Collin. They kept asking her if she was safe, and if she would be able to meet them all at diagon alley the last day of brwhileeak. Rosalind had no way to respond.

Mid-August, Rosalind was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, sipping a mug of hot butterbeer while she proofread her summer homework for transfiguration. Williamson was sitting nearby at the bar, making it painfully obvious that he was itching for a firewhiskey.

The bell jingled as a customer entered, speaking loudly to Tom and several other people behind them. Rosalind didn’t think much of it until a familiar voice caught her attention, and she sat up with a start, staring across the pub.

“Harry?”

Harry Potter whipped his head around, unable to fully turn due to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, gripping his shoulder. “Rosa?!”

Ignoring the objections from Williamson, Rosalind jumped up and ran across the pub, throwing her arms around her friend.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been writing back!” She let go of Harry and took a hasty step back. “They wouldn’t let me.”

“Who?” Harry looked at her, confusion painted on his face.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and two men appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly.

“’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ’oo you are, eh, Neville?” said one, beaming at Harry.

“And a private parlour, please, Tom,” said Cornelius Fudge pointedly.

“Will you come down when you’re done?” Rosalind whispered as Fudge began to drag Harry Potter away.

He managed to give her a quick smile and nod before vanishing up the staircase that led to the rooms.

“Miss Black,” Williamsons voice came from behind Rosalind, and the auror put a hand on her shoulder. “May I suggest you return to your butterbeer? We can’t have you standing so openly by the front entrance.”

Heaving a sigh, Rosalind nodded and returned to her now lukewarm drink, too distracted to focus on her paper.  

She waited at the table for what seemed like days, but Williamson informed her it had only been two hours. Finally, as the clock neared midnight, Rosalind let Williamson escort her back to her room. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and she had a feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of Harry Potter.

Rosalind was shaken awake next morning by a bedraggled Stygian.

“Styg,” Rosalind grumbled, swatting at him. “Bug off.”

“What’s something I can ask the guy at the door to make sure he’s the real Harry Potter?” Stygian poked Rosalind in the side, trying to tickle her through the covers. “Ro?”

“Harry?” Rosalind mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Ask him… Merlin, it’s too early for this… Oh, ask him to name the diary.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Stygian grumbled as he stood up and left the room, leaving Rosalind. She threw off the covers, checking out her pajamas and hair in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look awful, and went out into the main room.

“Tom Riddle?” Came Harry’s questioning voice from the doorway, which Dawlish was holding open slightly for Stygian to look through.

“Oh, let him in,” Rosalind went over to the doorway and pushed Stygian aside, smiling at Harry. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry gave her a cautious smile, eyes flickering to the auror standing behind her. “Am I allowed to come in?”

“Oh!” Rosalind took a step back, laughing as her face went red. “Yeah, of course. I was just about to order breakfast.”

“More like lunch,” snorted Stygian, rolling his eyes at her from where he sat on the sofa. “It’s nearly noon.”

“As long as I’m in pajamas, it’s breakfast,” Rosalind smirked, walking over to Stygian and pinching his nose. “And don’t act like you didn’t just wake up, too.”

Stygian rubbed his nose self consciously. “Wouldn’t have woken up if your Gryffindor friend hadn’t scared Dawlish with his incessant banging on the door.”

Rosalind smirked as she went over to the kitchenette, tailed by Harry. She hopped onto the countertop, crossing her legs as she looked over the breakfast menu.

“Is this where you live?” Harry asked cautiously, looking around the room.

Rosalind and Stygian exchanged a glance, breaking out into laughter.

“No, Harry,” Stygian looked over at the Gryffindor, amused. “This is very much temporary.”

“Just until they get our uncle back behind bars,” Rosalind sighed, not looking up from the menu.

“Glad I’m not the only one threatened by Sirius Black,” Harry gave Rosalind a smile as she rolled her eyes, circling her breakfast selection off the menu and letting it fall to the floor. In midair, it folded itself into a paper airplane and flew out the room, squeezing through the gap under the door.

“If you don’t mind, Harry,” Stygian gave his classmate a pointed look. “We don’t talk about our uncle.”

Harry looked from Stygian to Rosalind. “What? How can you not?”

Rosalind crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “It upsets mother.”

“Wow, Rosa.” Stygian shot her a glare. “Could you be any more sarcastic?”

“Whatever,” Rosalind sighed, hopping off the countertop. “So, Harry Potter. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Harry turned pink. “To make a long story short, it started with me needing my Hogsmeade permission slip signed, and ended with me blowing up my aunt and running away.”

“Blowing up your aunt?!” Stygian sat up, staring at Harry with a horrified expression on his face as Rosalind burst out laughing.

“Like a balloon!” Harry’s face dropped as he realized how that had sounded. “I didn’t explode my aunt!”

“Careful, Harry,” Rosalind chortled, leaning against the sofa. “Don’t blow up on us.”

“Hah!” Stygian looked at Rosalind, delighted, and the two of them high fived as Harry shook his head, laughing.

Over the next few days, Rosalind and Stygian introduced Harry to their strange, somewhat freedom. They ate breakfast together, toured the alley, scoured stores, and consumed as much free ice cream as they could. Dinner was spent under the rainbow colored umbrellas outside of cafes and restaurants while peddlers and street performers roamed the alleyway next to them.

Harry often popped by to go over homework with them. When they weren’t doing homework, Harry would lend Hedwig to Rosalind so she could send letters back to her friends without Kingsley eating her alive. Hermione had arranged for them all to meet up on the last day of vacation, and Ginny was more than excited to finally see Rosalind again.

Once while strolling down the alley, a large crowd caught their attention, seeing as how it blocked most of the alleyway by Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, they edged their way inside and squeezed in amongst the excited witches and wizards, glimpsing a newly erected podium on which was mounted an elegant broom.

“Just come out … prototype …” a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.

“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Rosalind, who was swinging off his father’s arm.

“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favourites for the World Cup!”

A large witch in front of Harry moved, and the three of them were able to read the sign next to the broom:

THE FIREBOLT

This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a streamlined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration of 0-150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable braking charm. Price on request.

“Looks expensive,” Stygian commented dryly as they made their way out of the store.

“Looks awesome!” Rosalind objected, getting a high five from Harry.

On the last day of break, Rosalind woke Harry up by banging on his door.

“Harry Potter!” She yelled, giving the door a swift kick.

Harry quickly opened the door, grinning as he quickly closed it behind him, grabbing hold of Rosalind and pulling her down the hallway. “Come on!”

Tailed by Savage, the two of them headed out into the alley. The sun shone down on the colorful peddlers, bouncing beams of colorful light around the crowded alleyway as the pair scanned the crowd for their friends.

‘Harry! Rosalind!’

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour; Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, and both waving frantically at him.

‘Finally!’ said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down.

‘We’ve been looking for you guys!” Rosalind said with a grin, giving Hermione a quick hug as she sat down next to her.

‘We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s, and –’

‘I got all my school stuff last week,’ Harry explained. ‘And how come you know we’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron?’

‘Dad,’said Ron simply.

‘Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?’said Hermione in a very serious voice.

‘I didn’t mean to,’said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. ‘I just – lost control.’

‘It’s not funny, Ron,’said Hermione sharply. ‘Honestly I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.’

‘So am I,’ admitted Harry. ‘Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested.’

He looked at Ron. ‘Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?’

‘Probably ’cause it’s you, isn’t it?’ shrugged Ron, still chuckling.

‘Famous Harry Potter and all that. I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first, because Mum would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well!’

Harry looked over at Rosalind. “Rosa already offered a ride-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rosalind scoffed, crossing her arms. “How about a trade, Ron? You can have Harry If you give me Ginny.”

“Deal,” Ron stuck out his hand to Rosalind, and the two of them shook on it.

Hermione nodded, beaming. ‘Merlin, maybe I should switch cars, too. Anyways, Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things.’

‘Excellent!’said Harry. ‘So, have you got all your new books and stuff?’

‘Look at this,’ said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. ‘Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we’ve got all our books’ – he pointed at a large bag under his chair. ‘What about those Monster books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two.’

‘What’s all that, Hermione?’ Harry asked, pointing at not one, but three, bulging bags in the chair next to her.

‘Well, I’m taking more new subjects than you, aren’t I?’ said Hermione. ‘Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies –’

‘What are you doing Muggle Studies for?’ said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. ‘You’re Muggleborn! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!’

‘But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view,’said Hermione earnestly.

“She has a point,” Rosalind admitted, gettings a smile from Hermione.

‘Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?’ asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Hermione ignored them.

‘I’ve still got ten Galleons,’ she said, checking her purse. ‘It’s my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.’

‘How about a book?’ Ron and Rosalind spoke at the same time, leaning across the table to exchange a high five.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Hermione composedly. ‘I really want an owl. I mean, Harry’s got Hedwig and you’ve got Errol –’

‘I haven’t,’said Ron. ‘Errol’s a family owl. All I’ve got is Scabbers.’ He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket.

‘And I want to get him checked over,’ he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. ‘I don’t think Egypt agreed with him.’

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers.

‘There’s a magical-creature shop just over there,’ said Harry, who knew Diagon Alley very well by now. ‘You can see if they’ve got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl.’

Rosalind looked over at Ron as he finished their ice cream. “Hey, where did Ginny go off to?”

“Gladrags, I think,” Ron said in between licks of his spoon. “After last year, mom promised Ginny new robes instead of secondhand.”

Rosalind grinned and stood up from the table. “Alright, I’ll catch you guys later, than?”

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Harry said quickly, receiving a questioning look from Ron.

“I think I’ve had enough of you this summer,” Rosalind teased, ruffling Harry’s hair. “See you at dinner.”

Savage followed at Rosalind's heels as she wove through the crowds, searching for a shock of red hair. At one point she glimpsed ginger hair streaking through the crowds, but it was only Fred and George, running after their friend Lee Jordan.

The bell jingled as Rosalind entered Gladrags, scanning the room. In the corner, sitting by the changing rooms, she noticed Mrs. Weasley, rummaging through her coin purse as she waited expectantly.

Before she could make her way over to the Weasley’s, a familiar voice caught here attention.

“Hey, Black!”

Groaning, Rosalind turned to face the skinny, blonde haired, Slytherin. “What, Malfoy?”

Draco walked over to her, tailed by a skinny, blonde haired, woman who gave Savage a questioning look.

“Does your brother not like me anymore?” Draco questioned, arms crossed. “After we heard about your uncle, Mother insisted we invite him to stay with us, but he never replied to our owl.”

“Wow,” Rosalind raised an eyebrow at Draco. “That is… actually unexpectedly nice of you.”

“Why didn’t he reply?” Draco pressed, leaning closer.

“We’ve been in a safehouse,” Rosalind whispered, leaning closer to Draco. “We haven’t been allowed to send letters. I know Stygian wanted to accept your offer, but our mother didn’t want to let him out of her sight.”

A hand on Rosalind's shoulder made her jump, and she turned around to see Mrs. Weasley and Ginny standing behind her, the latter holding onto Rosalind.

“Gin!” Rosalind gasped, throwing her arms around her friend.

“Hey, Rosa,” Ginny hugged back, grinning as they let go, before shooting a dirty look at Draco.

“Come, Draco,” The lady who must have been Draco’s mother walked towards the door. “You must have been mistaken to invite someone associated with these blood-traitors.”

Casting a glance at Rosalind that seemed halfway between a plead and a glare, Draco followed his mother.

“What was all that about?” Ginny asked, linking her arm through Rosalinds.

“It looked like you were in trouble, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly, giving Rosalind a side hug as a hello. “Nasty people, those Malfoys.”

“They just wanted to make sure my brother was safe,” Rosalind shrugged.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I suppose it’s a house loyalty thing.”

“Actually,” Rosalind chewed on her lip, “Draco’s father is Stygians godfather.”

Mrs. Weasley gave a light tut tut as Ginny shook her head, smiling.

“Your have a crazy family, Rosa.”

Rosalind let out a laugh as they headed out of the store. “You don’t even know.”

Ginny accompanied Rosalind and Stygian to Kings Cross the next morning, wisely not questioning the fact that no parent accompanied the Black siblings on their way to school. Their mother had given them a private goodbye in the morning, before leaving for work.

Ginny and Rosalind bid goodbye to Stygian after they loaded their trunks onto the train, and Rosalind's brother set off looking for his friends.

“Where is your family?” Rosalind huffed, propping open the compartment door as a group of Hufflepuffs clambered on.

“There!” Ginny cried out, pointing excitedly at a group of redheads milling by the entrance barrier. Mrs. Weasley was visibly giving everyone kisses and hug goodbye while she passed out packed lunches.

Ginny jumped down onto the platform and ran over to her mother, throwing her arms around her as the other Weasleys began to disband into the train bound crowd.

Ron and Hermione ran up to Rosalind, grinning as she helped them into the train car.

“How was the ride?” Rosalind asked Ron sweetly with a meaningful nod at Percy, who had accompanied them in the car on the way over.

Ron grumbled and didn’t respond as Hermione let out a giggle.

The train let out a whistle, and guards began to pace along the train, slamming doors shut as they went.

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione gasped, scanning the crowds of waving parents as Ginny climbed into the car next to them, handing Rosalind a bagged lunch.

“There!” Rosalind pointed to where Harry was heading away from Mr. Weasley.

They began shouting Harry’s name as the cars began to jiggle. Steam billowed from the engine as the train began to creep forward.

Harry ran to the compartment door, cheered on by the four of them as they stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr and Mrs Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

‘I need to talk to you in private,’ Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

‘Go away, Ginny’ said Ron.

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Ginny huffed, turning on her heel with Rosalind in tow.

“Wait, Rosa!”

Rosalind turned as Harry called out to her, consciously aware that Ginny had also stopped, and turned to gawk at her.

Harry seemed to realize that he wouldn’t be able to talk to Rosalind without Ginny, and gave a shake of his head. “Nevermind, we can catch up later.”

Rolling her eyes, Rosalind turned around and linked her arm through Ginny’s, pulling her along to the next train car.

Ginny gave her a sidelong glance. “Are we going to talk about-”

“Nope.” Rosalind’s face grew hot as she looked from compartment to compartment. “Look, there’s Colin!”

Colin Creevey looked up as a red faced Rosalind and red haired Ginny came into the compartment. Beside him, Estelle called out a greeting, and Luna looked up momentarily from the magazine she was reading upside down.

Harper Lee, a Slytherin Colin had coerced into befriending, groaned from next to Collin, who was grinning wildly at them.

“Ladies!” He cheered, holding up a marble. “You up for a game of gobstones inside a moving train?”

The next few hours were spent in a raucous of laughter. Midway into their game, Rosalind had calculated her throws with the rustling of the train, so that whoever she was facing ended up getting sprayed in the face.

“I swear you’re cheating,” Harper whined as the marbles sprayed him yet again.

Rosalind let out a giggle as she positioned the marble in her right hand, left hand pressed against the floor of the train as she waited for her opportune moment. The thuds and rumblings of the train were getting further and further apart…

“Hurry up!” Colin said excitedly as Rosalind looked out the window, eyebrows scrunched together as she squinted out the window.

“Are we… slowing down?”

Everyone looked up towards the window.

Luna, the only person not sitting on the floor, lowered her spectrespecs and looked at them wisely. “Nargles must have gotten to the conductor. I did warn him.”

Everyone exchanged shocked looks as the train rolled to a stop with a jolt. Ginny, Estelle, and Colin jumped up and squeezed against the window as Rosalind and Harper exchanged shocked looks.

“There’s something boarding the train,” Ginny rasped, drawing away from the window with a squeak just seconds before Colin.

“What is it?” Rosalind stood up and went to the window, staring in shock at the creeping frost that was forming along the frame. The temperature in the room was dropping drastically. There was a loud pop as the lights went out, and the room went dark.

“Rosa?”

“I’m right next to you, Gin. You can stop digging your nails into my arm. Who’s on my other side?”

“Me! Colin! Who’s on my foot?”

There was a kick, and a groan.

“Me! Harper!”

“Oof! My bad mate.”

They all gasped and scooched closer together as the compartment door slid open with a screech.

Standing in the doorway, dimly illuminated by the faint light coming in through the window, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Rosalind’s eyes darted downwards. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water … It was visible only for a split second.

As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Rosalind’s gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of the black material. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Ginny let out a wail from Rosalind’s side that slowly turned into a shriek as that ghostly, decaying hand reached out towards the group. Colin, Harper, and Ginny all dove to the side, but Rosalind was rooted in place, breath coming out quick and fast as the creature moved closer, and closer. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in her ears as if she was plunged underwater, and the creature slowly began to lift its hood, a blaring white light reaching out towards Rosalind, choking her, draining her-

“Expecto Patronum!”

A streak of silver slammed into the side of the creature, pushing it down the hallway and away from Rosalind.

She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, as Ginny kneeled down next to her and put her arms around her shoulders. “Rosa, Rosa are you alright?”

“What was that?” Gasped Harper, looking up as a group of students came to the doorway of the compartment.

“Is everyone here alright?” The first student, Oliver Wood, kneeled down in front of Rosalind. “Are you hurt?”

“The thing started to… I don’t know what it was, there was a light-”

“Ginny,” Oliver looked up at her, eyes hard. “Go find your brothers. Make sure Harry’s alright.”

Ginny stood up, nodding quickly, before running out of the compartment.

“Are you alright, Rosa?” Estelle kneeled down next to Rosa in Ginny’s place, putting her arm around her.

“I… “ Rosa looked up at the quidditch captain. “What was that?”

Oliver sighed, sitting back. “A Dementor. Percy said it was searching the train for Sirius Black.”

“Makes sense,” Harper scoffed from where he was sitting on the bench. “The creature barely has a body, so clearly it doesn’t have enough brain to tell you apart from your murderous-”

“Harper!” Colin and Luna yelled, glaring at the Slytherin as Oliver helped Rosalind stand up.

She gave a small jump, looking around frantically as the lights turned back on, and warmth began to return to the cabin.

“Are you going to be ok?” Oliver asked, looking from Rosalind to Colin.

“We’ll take care of her,” Colin promised, sitting Rosalind down next to Luna.

Oliver nodded, casting one more look at Rosalind before leaving the compartment, sliding the door shut behind him.

No one spoke for several minutes. Rosalind stared in front of her, fiddling with her hands. Luna had unbuttoned her jack and placed it on her shoulders, while Colin rubbed her back in slow circles. Harper was on the floor, picking up the scattered marbles, the game of gobstones forgotten.

“What was that feeling?” Rosalind finally broke the silence, looking up across the compartment at Estelle.

No one spoke for a moment.

“It was like being petrified,” Harper rasped from the floor, rolling a marble between his fingers.

“No,” Colin, the only one of them to be petrified, spoke up. “When you’re petrified, time freezes. This was different, time seemed to drag out…”

Their silence was broken by the sharp whistle of the train. One look out the window showed the quickly approaching lights of Hogsmeade village, and just beyond it, Hogwarts castle. It didn’t take long for the train to roll to a stop, and students began to flood from the compartments.

“Come on, Rosa,” Estelle tucked her arm through Rosalind’s on the right, Luna following suite on the left, and the three girls went out with the crowd, Harper and Colin in tow.

Following the older students, they managed to find a shaken Ginny waiting for them near the large, self-driven carriages. She gave them a nervous half-smile as they all climbed into a carriage, and it began to roll up towards the castle. The row of carriages trundled towards a pair of magnificent wrought-iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Rosalind saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. She couldn’t help but notice how their hooded heads slightly turned as she passed, and long after they had driven past she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching her.

At long last, the group entered the castle. Rosalind heaved an enormous sigh of relief at the familiar scent of aged stone and fresh parchment, accented by the tantalizing smells of the back to school feast that were drifting up from the kitchen in the lower levels. But among the familiar sounds was an eerie whispering; as she looked around the gangle of students heading towards the Great Hall, Rosalind couldn’t help but notice that some of them wouldn’t meet her eyes, looking away quickly and whispering amongst themselves as she passed by them.

Swallowing nervously, Rosalind ducked her head town and turned towards her friends. “I’m going to find a Madame Pomfrey. Save me some food from the feast?”

“Of course,” Estelle said kindly, giving Rosalind’s shoulder a squeeze.

Ginny gave her a punch in the arm. “We’ll save you a bit of every pudding, eh?”

Rosalind gave a weak smile, waving goodbye as she headed up the grand staircase to the hospital wing. Once inside, Madame Pomfrey gave her a few pieces of chocolate and a sleeping draught, and Rosalind curled up in a hospital bed in the corner, the distant murmurs of castle life lulling her to sleep.


	8. Lineage

After an eventful first day in flying lessons and History of Magic, Rosalind was more than surprise to find herself being summoned to Professor Dumbledore’s office. Even more surprising was the familiar figure waiting in the hallway by the large stone gargoyle rumored to be the entrance.

“Styg!” Rosalind cried out, running forward and throwing her arms around her brother.

Stygian struggled free of his sister and gave her a sad smile. “Rosa, you alright?”

Rosalind swallowed nervously and stepped away. “Not really. Are you?”

Stygian shook his head. “Yesterday, on the train, a-”

“-dementor tried to eat your face,” Rosalind nodded wisely. “Yeah, they tried to get me, too.”

Stygian shook his head, smiling. “Rosa, dementors don’t ‘eat your face.’ They suck out your soul.”

“Great!” Rosalind said with a sarcastic grin. “Because that makes things so much better!”

Stygian punched her in the arm, smirking. “Come on, you know this is serious.”

“Yeah,” Rosalind turned towards the gargoyle, looking at the floor. “It’s Sirius.”

Stygian gave a snort, rolling his eyes at his sister. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

Rosalind smiled for a moment, but dropped it to look at her brother seriously. “Hey, Styg? Do you feel like people are looking at us oddly?”

“Oddly?”

“Yeah,” Rosalind sighed, leaning against the wall. “I can’t help but feel like people keep looking at me weird. A lot of the older students keep whispering when I walk by them.”

Stygian opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as the stone gargoyle began to shake, moving to the side to reveal a staircase. 

“The headmaster will see you now,” the gargoyle croaked, it’s stone eyes following the siblings as they stepped carefully past the living statue, and climbed up the stairs. 

At the top of the steps was a wooden door, barely open. Rosalind stuck her her head in to the office, making eye contact with Professor Dumbledore, who had been pacing back and forth in the center of the large room.

“Ah, Miss Black,” he said with a kind smile. “And your brother, yes, yes. Come in, please.”

Exchanging a look, Rosalind and Stygian walked into the room, hanging off to the side. The walls in the room were covered in portraits; they whispered amongst themselves as the siblings looked up at them, some shooting glares at them while others smiled kindly. 

“What’s poppin, Headmaster?” Rosalind queried, getting elbowed by Stygian a moment later.

“You two are, Miss Black,” Dumbledore gave her a small smile. “I wanted to follow up with the pair of you about the dementor attacks on the train.”

“Not much to say,” Stygian shrugged. “They tried to suck out our souls. The Trolley Lady saved me, and Rosa?”

“Oliver Wood,” Rosalind said bluntly. “He cast a charm I hadn’t heard before, Expect opatrium?”

“Expecto Patronum,” Dumbledore and Stygian said in unison, Stygian blushing and bowing his head to the headmaster apologetically.

“The Patronus charm,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. “It is one of the only spells you can use to repel dementors, and one of the most powerful ones a wizard can perform. I want the pair of you to learn it.”

“What?” Rosalind and Stygian stared up at the headmaster as he walked towards the door.

“Wait here a second,” Dumbledore looked over at them with a twinkle in his eye as he reached the doorway. “I will go fetch your teacher; it seems they are running a little behind.”

Rosalind turned to Stygian with a sigh. “Is it normal for a second year to be learning this spell?”

“You’re not any regular first year,” came a scoff from the other side of the room. “You’re a Black!”

Rosalind and Stygian whipped out their wands, pointing them across the room.

“Who said that?” Stygian called out, inching towards the source of the voice. 

“Put those away!” It snapped, Rosalind looking along the wall. Her eyes made eye contact with a newer portrait, and it shook its head at her.

“Come closer,” the portrait said grumpily. “I want to see my grandkids.”

“What?” Rosalind frowned at the portrait as she inched closer next to Stygian. 

“I’ve read about you!” Stygian beamed, excitedly. “In the family book! Professor Phineas Nigellus Black, one of the only Slytherin Headmasters to lead Hogwarts.”

“See that?” The portrait spoke cockily to the portrait next to it, crossing his arms. “Those are the Black brains at work. You know, these two are-”

“-a year ahead, and top of the class,” several portraits around Phineas spoke in bored voices.

“We heard you the first hundred times,” another snorted, combing its long, black beard.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phineas snorted and turned back to Stygian and Rosalind. “So, tell me, what has that Sirius gotten himself into now?”

“Er…” Rosalind winced and took a step back from the portrait, who paid her no heed. 

“I remember when he was a student,” He snorted, leaning an arm against the portrait frame. “He was always getting dragged in here by McGonagall. Always trouble, that one. He and that Potter boy.”

“What?” Rosalind went up to the portrait, intrigued. “Potter boy? What Potter boy?”

“James Potter, of course,” Phineas rolled his eyes. “The pair was practically inseparable. They got into all sorts of trouble with those friends of theirs. Dumbledore tried to tame them by making one of them head boy, but it didn’t do anything to help.”

Rosalind stood, staring at the portrait. Harry’s father had been close to her uncle? But, she thought… 

Footsteps behind them made Rosalind and Stygian turn around, watching as Dumbledore walked up to them with a strange man in tow. He was tall, with large brown eyes that looked at the siblings cautiously. Though he seemed quite young, his eyes had large circle under them, and his brown hair was flecked with grey.

“Miss Black, Mister Black,” Dumbledore looked knowingly at the portrait behind them, then back at the new man. “I’d like you to meet Professor Remus Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Professor Lupin gave a nervous swallow as he looked from Rosalind, to Stygian, and back to Rosalind. “Professor Dumbledore, I didn’t know-”

“I’m sure, Remus, that the three of you will find your lessons,” Dumbledore gave Professor Lupin a pointed look, “Fruitful.”

Professor Lupin bowed his head to the headmaster. “Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Of course.”

Rosalind took a cautious step closer to the Professor. “So, when do we start?”

Professor Lupin gave a small smile as he looked at Rosalind. “We start next Monday evening. Come by my room an hour after dinner, and we can begin your lessons.”

Bidding farewell to the professors, Rosalind and Stygian climbed back down the steps, exchanging a hug of goodbye before heading their separate ways. 

Rosalind was so lost in thought that she barely heard someone calling her name till she reached the portrait hole and a hand grabbed hold of her shoulder.

Grabbing hold of the hand, Rosalind whipped around and bent it backwards, earning a yelp of pain, but letting go quickly as the recognized the three people behind her. “Whoops! Sorry, Ron!”

“Hermione, you’re getting her attention next time,” Ron grumbled, rubbing his wrist, but winked at Rosalind to show he didn’t mean it.

“What are you doing out so late?” Harry queried, stepping up to Rosalind as Ron unlocked the entrance and led them inside.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Rosalind raised an eyebrow at Harry as she climbed through the portrait hole. “What were you doing out so late?”

“Comforting Hagrid,” Harry sighed as the two of them split off from Hermione and Ron and sat down next to the common rooms fireplace. A group of fifth years was already there, bent over a large textbook as they prepared for their OWL’s. “He hasn’t had a great first day; Malfoy goaded a hippogriff to attack him in class.”

“Oh,” Rosalind nodded wisely. “That’s why he was whining so much during dinner.”

“Yeah,” Harry gave her a look. “So, what were you doing?”

Rosalind grumbled and sank into the sofa she was in. “Dumbledore is having Professor Lupin train Stygian and me after what happened on the train.”

There was a cough from the group of fifth years as they began to whisper amongst themselves.

“—...aiding —— uncle—”

“—only second—”

“—smart —— skipped—” 

Rosalind glanced over her shoulder, momentarily locking eyes of one of them, who quickly glanced away and muttered something she couldn’t catch.

Harry sat up and looked at Rosalind with worried eyes. “What happened to you on the train?”

“The dementor mistook Stygian and I for Sirius and tried to suck out our souls,” Rosalind said with a shrug. “I already heard about your fainting, no need to explain that to me.”

Harry bit his lip nervously. “Isn’t it odd, how only the three of us had reactions to the dementors?”

“Yeah, just Potter and Black…” Rosalind looked into the crackling fire, remembering what the portrait in Dumbledore’s office had told her. “It’s weird…” 

Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at their first official Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Rosalind took her usual seat next to Harry, trying to ignore the irritating whispering coming from Dean, Lavender, and Parvati. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals. 

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands.” 

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose. 

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready, “if you’d follow me.” 

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the poltergeist, who was floating upside-down in mid-air and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. 

Peeves didn’t look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away, then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. 

“Loony loopy Lupin,” Peeves sang. “Loony loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin –” 

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect towards the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling. 

“I’d take that gum out of the keyhole, if I were you, Peeves,” he said pleasantly. “Mr Filch won’t be able to get in to his brooms.” 

Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin’s words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry. 

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. 

“This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Please watch closely.” 

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said “Waddiwasi!” and pointed it at Peeves. 

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves’s left nostril; he whirled right way up and zoomed away, cursing. 

“Cool, sir!” said Dean Thomas in amazement. 

“Thank you, Dean,” said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. “Shall we proceed?” 

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staff room door. 

“Inside, please,” said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back. 

The staff room, a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. 

As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, ‘Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this.’ 

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. 

At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, ‘Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.’ 

Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape, and Rosalind put her arm around Neville and glared at her godfather.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably." 

Neville’s face went, if possible, even redder. Snape’s lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap. 

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing except an old wardrobe in which the teachers kept their spare robes. 

As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. 

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped backwards in alarm. "There’s a Boggart in there." 

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling door knob apprehensively. 

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third-years some practice. 

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?" 

Hermione put up her hand. 

"It’s a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most." 

"Couldn’t have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. 

"So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears."

Rosalind frowned, losing herself in her thoughts as she looked up at the professor. What did she fear most? She had always thought that her largest fear was her family’s reputation, but a boggart couldn’t turn into that. Was it her Uncle? Her Mother? Her Father?

Rosalind was pushed towards the wall as the class backed up to give Neville, who was standing in the center of the room, space. She couldn’t help but notice how several students, including Lavender and Parvati, had moved away where she was standing by a bouncing Hermione.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One – two – three – now!" 

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. 

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes. 

"R-r-riddikulus!" squeaked Neville. There was a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and swinging a huge crimson handbag from his hand. 

There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!" 

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk towards her, very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising – 

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati. A bandage unravelled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled, fell face forwards and its head rolled off. 

"Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin. 

Seamus darted past Parvati. 

Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face – a banshee. She opened her mouth wide, and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek which made the hair on Rosalind’s arm stand on end – 

"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus. 

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. 

Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then – crack! – became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before – crack! – becoming a single, bloody eyeball. 

"It’s confused!" shouted Lupin. "We’re getting there! Dean!" 

Dean hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over, and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap. 

"Excellent! Ron, you next!" Ron leapt forward.

Crack! Quite a few people screamed. 

A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Ron had frozen. Then – 

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider’s legs vanished. It rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry’s feet. He raised his wand, but –

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. 

Crack! 

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. 

Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said "Riddikulus!" almost lazily. 

Crack! 

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin, as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. 

Crack! Snape was back. 

This time Neville charged forward looking determined. 

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second’s view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone. 

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin, as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see … five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart – ten for Neville because he did it twice – and five each to Hermione and Harry." 

"But I didn’t do anything," said Harry. 

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me … to be handed in on Monday. That will be all." 

Rosalind exchanged a look with Harry as the class began to trickle out of the staff room. Professor Lupin had stopped Harry from facing the boggart, but why? What fears did he feel Harry had to hide?

In no time at all, Defence Against the Dark Arts had become most people’s favourite class. Professor Lupin’s next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had got lost. From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. 

Rosalind and Stygian were actively meeting with Professor Lupin every Monday evening for their additional lessons. The Professor had quickly learned to appeal to their egghead nature, and assigned them each an essay on the nature of dementors, quickly followed by twelve inches of parchment on the nature and execution of the Patronus charm. 

Part of the reason Rosalind enjoyed Professor Lupin’s lesson was because they really made her think. What was her biggest fear? What was her happiest memory? Her strength? Weakness? 

None of those questions had simple answers, but every moment she spent pondering the answers made Rosalind more and more excited to find them out. Maybe excited wasn’t the right word to use, but it was something she was anticipating heavily.

Fall seemed to pass in a blink of an eye, and before they knew it, Halloween was upon them. Hermione and Ron could not contain their excitement for the first Hogsmeade weekend, though they tried desperately, for Harry’s sake. The Boy Who Lived had resulted to grouchy sulking, turning away whenever someone mentioned the trip, and shutting out any attempts to cheer him up.

Rosalind jerked her head up as the door to the portrait hole swung open, and Harry Potter returned from seeing his friends off. One could practically see the storm clouds hanging over him as he looked around the common room with a sigh.

“Hey, Harry’s back!” Colin grinned and leaped to his feet, running across the hall.

“Colin, don’t!” Rosalind whispered after him fervently, but Collin didn’t listen to her.

Estelle gave a sigh as they watched Colin jump around Harry excitedly. “You know, Gin, he’s as bad as you were last year.”

Ginny gave a snort, looking up from the essay she was writing to watch Colin for a moment. “He is, isn’t he?”

“As bad as you are now, Rosa,” Estelle teased, winking at Rosalind as she felt her cheeks grow warm.

“What do you mean?” She asked, innocently blinking over at Estelle.

Ginny and Estelle exchanged a knowing glance, but didn’t say anything as Rosalind gave a snort and went back to her charms textbook.

Rosalind couldn’t pay attention during the Halloween feast; a ghost of the feeling the dementors had left in her seemed to be haunting her aura. Ever since the incident on the train, she couldn’t seem to get warm, and would walk around in layers even on warmer days. The constant whispering from the other Gryffindors didn’t help. Their hushed voices grated on Rosalind's nerves and followed her around the castle, making it difficult to focus on the here and now. Even Colin, who was over the moon to be eating another feast at Hogwarts, seemed to notice how distracted Rosalind was. 

Thankfully, as the castle ghosts flew out to do some formation flying over the crowds of students, Rosalind managed to slip away. Slipping through the empty hallways, the noise of the great hall growing fainter and fainter, Rosalind made her way to the grand staircase. She climbed up the stone steps, carefully jumping over a trick step, when her feet were jerked out from under her, and she fell onto the steps with a dull ‘oof’. Sitting up, she rubbed her aching forehead as the staircase shifted, rising up a story and taking her away from the Gryffindor common room. 

Standing up, wobbly, Rosalind clung onto the barrier and leaned over the edge, sighing as she looked at the Fat Lady’s portrait. How would she get down there now?

Movement caught the corner of Rosalind’s eye. Slinking up the stairs directly next to the fat lady was… a dog? 

It had long legs and coarse, black fur. The dog looked half starved and in desperate need of a bath, but it paused in front of the portrait as if it knew what the painting was.

Rosalind let out a gasp, ducking down behind the bannister as the dog spun, growing taller and paler until a man stood in its place. His hair was curly and wild, and from what Rosalind could see from where she was perched on the top step of the staircase, incredibly skinny. Long fingers poked out of the oversized jacket he had on, and he spoke with a raspy voice to the portrait.

Rosalind was too far away to make out what they were saying, but both the Fat Lady and the stranger seemed to be getting more and more frustrated with each other. In a single, impulsive, swipe, the man slashed at the portrait. Shreds of canvass hung from the wall as the Fat Lady vanished from her frame, shrieking. 

The man turned around, breathing heavily as he gripped the knife in his hands tightly. Rosalind caught a glimpse of his face, with the all too familiar square jaw, high cheekbone, and tired eyes. It was the face hung in shop windows all over Diagon Alley. The face that was mirrored in the photos of her father that hung everywhere in the house. The face that looked far too similar to her own.

“Uncle?”

To her dismay, the stairs beneath her feet gave a shudder, and once again began to turn.

“No, no, no!” Rosalind whispered to herself as she drew closer and closer to where Sirius Black was standing, legs trembling. 

The stairs came in contact with the landing with a thud, and Rosalind stared into her uncles eyes. She saw in their depths a flicker of recognition, but neither one of them spoke.

In the distance, a dull thud of footsteps echoed down the stone corridor.

“The feast,” Rosalind gasped, shaking her head and taking a step forward, pushing her uncle away from the ruined portrait. “Quick, get out of here before anyone else sees you!”

“Wait!” Sirius Black turned to Rosalind, brown eyes wide. “Meet me, tomorrow at noon, by the edge of the black lake.”

Rosalind hesitated, but gave a quick nod. “Now, go!”

Throwing a panicked look back at Rosalind, Sirius turned on his heels, transforming back into a large black dog. He stepped into the shadows, and disappeared behind a tapestry.

Rosalind stood at the platform at the top of the stairs, take quick, shallow breaths. Her uncle had been here, he wanted to see her… 

“Rosalind?”

Rosalind turned around to see Percy walking up the stairs, a horde of Gryffindors behind him. 

Rosalind managed a weak smile. “Ah, Percy…”

For a moment Percy looked at her, his mouth opening and closing rapidly, but Rosalind couldn’t make out what he was saying. She felt the air rush from her lungs as her knees fell out from under her. The last thing she saw as she plunged towards the stone floor was Percy Weasley rushing forward to grab her, and then the world went black.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Rosalind was dimly aware of Fred and George carrying her through the crowd of Gryffindors in the hallway. Their whispers seemed louder than usual as they looked at her suspiciously through narrowed eyes. No one other than the Weasley twins seemed eager to help her. She didn’t know when the twins brought her to the hospital wing, but George had a drop of puke on the shoulder of his robes.

“Miss Black?”

Rosalind blinked as a light was shone into her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the energy to speak. All she could do was open and close her mouth like a fish, breathing deeply.

“It looks like a bit of food poisoning,” Madame Pomfrey was telling the twins as she turned her back to Rosalind. “You boys head down to the Great Hall with the other students, I’ll be sending her down in a few hours.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to keep her overnight?” George said with a meaningful glance at the orange gush on his robes. 

Madame Pomfrey gave a shake of her head. “She’ll be fine once her stomach settles. I have enough to do here with the panic attacks from the attack without needing another student to watch.”

Madame Pomfrey flicked her wand, and two vials and a mug flew over to her. Combining the two vials in the mug, she raised the bed beneath Rosalind slightly and held the mug up to her lips, coaxing every drop down her throat.

“I’ll have a prefect or teacher escort her down when she wakes…” Madame Pomfrey’s voice faded from her consciousness as Rosalind's head drooped, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.  

Quiet sobs of a first year a few beds down from Rosalind woke her hours later. Through the large window outside she could see dark clouds drifting over the moon. Half lit candles illuminated the walls as she sat up shakily, grabbing onto the sides of the hospital bed.

“Miss Black?”

Rosalind looked up as Madame Pomfrey pulled back the curtain by her bed. The nurse looked ruffled; her usual neat bun was tilted too far to the right, and her eyes seemed barely open.

“Wonderful timing,” Madame Pomfrey sighed, taking Rosalind’s hand and checking her pulse. “Lovely, yes… can you stand?”

Rosalind nodded and slid off the bed, stumbling slightly but quickly finding her balance.

“Feeling dizzy?” Madame Pomfrey coaxed, summoning over a small vial of potion from the other end of the room.

“Not anymore,” Rosalind said quietly, following the nurse away from the bed. Behind them, the sheets were magically changing themselves.

“Alright,” Madame Pomfrey huffed as she handed Rosalind the vial. “Drink this, quickly. I’ll summon someone to escort you down to the great hall.”

Rosalind nodded, taking down the vial in one gulp. Almost immediately, her mouth opened up in a gaping yawn that made her eyes tear up.

“Miss Black.”

Rosalind gave a sigh of relief at the familiar voice, turning around with a tired smile on her face. “Uncle Sev.”

Professor Severus Snape raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question what Rosalind was doing as he jerked his head toward the door. “Come, let’s get you to the great hall.”

“Great Hall?” Rosalind followed her godfather, confused. “Why not the Common Room?”

Professor Snape scowled. “After the attack on your house’s common room entrance, Dumbledore had all the students sent to the Great Hall so that we could conduct a thorough sweep of the school.”

Rosalind nodded. “Well, did they find anything?”

Snape gave a snort. “Please, your uncle and his friend were always evading trouble as students, it only makes sense that in adulthood they avoid trouble on a much larger scale.”

“My uncle’s friends?”

Professor Snape stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to look at Rosalind. “Tell me, Miss Black, what has your mother told you about your uncle?”

Rosalind gave a shrug. “Not much. It upset her to talk about him.”

Snape gave a deep sigh as he set down on the top of the stairs, motioning for Rosalind to do the same. They could just barely make out the ajar doors of the great hall, lined with students in plush, purple sleeping bags. 

The dim torchlight illuminated Snape’s black robes as he turned towards Rosalind. “I knew your father and uncle in school. Your uncle and I were the same age, but he was sorted into Gryffindor, much like yourself. Your father and mother were in Slytherin, with me.

Your uncle ran with a bad crowd. His closest friend, James Potter, was a bully and a troublemaker. They…” 

Professor Snape paused, and Rosalind looked at him worriedly. His fists had balled up in his robe pockets, and his eyes were unfocused and distant.

“When your uncle came of age,” Snape continued eventually, “He moved out of the house. Your grandmother disowned him, and we didn’t hear from him for years. Your parents and I joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, and life seemed to move on. Until Harry Potter.”

“He defeated the Dark Lord as a baby, the night his parents were killed,” Rosalind said quietly, looking down at her feet. 

“Yes, Rosalind.” Snape nodded, raising his eyebrow at her. “It was quite a scandal; their location had been hidden, the charm performed by Dumbledore himself. The Potter’s had entrusted their location to, the wrong person. Your uncle.

“He sold them out to the Dark Lord. Then, he went after the one other person that knew about it, another young man in their friend group, and an absolute coward, Peter Pettigrew. 

“He cornered Pettigrew and blew him up, killing several muggles in the vicinity. They say that when the ministry got there to take him in, he was standing by the crater, laughing maniacally. The only remaining bit of Pettigrew was a chunk of his finger.”

Rosalind gave a shudder. Was this the man she was going to meet tomorrow at the lake?

“How did he escape from Azkaban?” Rosalind whispered, looking up at her godfather.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Professor Snap shrugged. “But I will do everything in my power to make sure he gets back behind bars, and as far away from here as possible.

Rosalind opened her mouth to ask more questions, but an enormous yawn overtook her. 

Professor Snape gave her a sad smile, just barely turning up the corners of his couth. “Come, let’s get you to bed.”

Heaving a sigh, Rosalind followed her godfather into the great hall. 

“I believe your friends are in the far corner,” Professor Snape gestured towards the far end of the hall, where a lonesome Harry Potter had noticed their arrival. 

“Where’s Stygian?” Rosalind asked, picking up a purple sleeping bag as she pretended not to notice Harry waving her over.

Professor Snape pointed to a group of sleeping Slytherins near the center of the hall. Stygian was on the edge of the group, laying down next to a sleeping Draco Malfoy. His hair was rumpled as he eagerly read through an old book by wandlight.

“Goodnight, Miss Black,” Professor Snape nodded at her before walking over to where Professor Dumbledore stood, surveying the students. 

Rosalind took a deep breath and walked over to where her brother was lying in his bag, cautiously aware of Harry’s disbelieving gaze boring into her. She didn’t feel comfortable being amongst the whispering Gryffindors that she knew had most likely spent the evening talking about her behind her back.

“Is this spot taken?” She whispered to Stygian, smiling lightly as she stopped next to him.

“It is,” Stygian looked up and nodded sincerely. “You’re taking it.”

Chuckling quietly, Rosalind unfurled her sleeping bag next to Sygian’s and kicked off her shoes, climbing inside and curling up against her brother. The enchanted night sky twinkled with stars and galaxies above them as she got surprisingly comfortable on the stone floor.

“Want me to read aloud to you?” Stygian whispered, leaning closer to Rosalind’s ear. “Like we used to?”

Rosalind gave a few nods, rustling the sleeping bag.

Stygian cleared his throat and continued reading from  Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming. Oddly comforted by the sound of his voice, Rosalind pushed closer to her brother and fell into a restless sleep.


	9. Kinsman

When everyone found themselves waking up in the morning, breakfast had been set up in one, long, buffet line. They all trickled through, getting their food and then going back to their sleeping bags. Rosalind was too lost in her own thoughts to realize just how many other students were looking oddly at the Gryffindor engaging with a group of the least likable Slytherins in the school. She could hear suspicious rumors spreading from Gryffindor to the other houses, but shrugged them off as best as she could and listened to Draco and Stygian bicker like toddlers.

Over breakfast, she told Stygian everything Snape had told her regarding their uncle, cautiously leaving out the fact that she had seen him at the painting, and was meeting him later that day. Stygian nodded along to the story, mouth too full of eggs to respond, but agreeing to look into student records in the library to see if they could find out anything else about their uncle.

“Don’t forget about our lesson tonight!” he called after Rosalind, unable to contain his excitement. “We’re finally learning to cast the spell!”

Rosalind gave Stygian a salute, heading out to find Ginny and head to class.

That day, time seemed to move slower than any other day Rosalind could remember. Not even on Christmas morning did the clock seem to move as slowly as it did that Monday. Between her stubborn ignorance of the rumors she heard circling about her and her brother, and the anticipation of catching Sirius Black, noon couldn’t come quickly enough.

Not even Ginny could ignore how incessantly antsy Rosalind was. 

“Merlin, Rosa!” Ginny yelled as Rosalind paused midair on her broom, looking at the large clock in the courtyard. “Watch yourself! I nearly crashed into you!”

“Right,” Rosalind puffed as they began their descend, landing on the grass in the training grounds. “Sorry, Gin.”

“Hey,” Ginny grabbed Rosalind by the hand and smiled softly. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Someone behind them giggled, and whispered something to a friend of theirs, but Rosalind refused to turn around and get involved.

Rosalind gave a hard swallow, dropping her broom. “I-”

The ringing of the bell signalling the end of class echoed throughout the courtyard, causing Rosalind to jump into action.

“I’ll tell you later!” She yelled, running across the courtyard from Ginny. 

“Leave me to put your broom away, why don’t you!” Ginny’s yell followed Rosalind as she ran from the training grounds to Hagrid's hut, stowing her book bag inside one of the feeding buckets he kept by his door.

Wrapping her Gryffindor scarf tighter around her neck to block out the cold November wind, Rosalind marched down the rocky path to the black lake. Frost was still coating patches of the ground beneath the trees, and her breath drifted in the air in small clouds as she jumped down onto the rocky lakeshore, enjoying the crunch of rocks and leaves underfoot as she walked along the lake.

“Where am I supposed to meet you?” She huffed to herself, jumping in place to keep out the cold.

A small  _ ruff _ came from behind her, and Rosalind whipped around. Standing on the edge of the lake was the scraggly black dog Sirius seemed to turn in to. His tail gave a few weak wags as they made eye contact, and Rosalind gave a wary smile.

“So… what now?” she asked, kneeling down in front of him.

He gave a small whine, turning around and padding away down the lakebed. Rosalind stared at him for a moment, debating whether she ought to follow or not, but he turned around and looked at her. Rosalind could swear he winked, and before she could stop herself she was following the dog down the lakebed. 

They trekked into the woods, avoiding the school paths. Rosalind lost count of how many times she slipped on the frost coated leaves as they made their way up the steep slope from to lake, seemingly headed in the direction of the school, but not entirely headed in the right direction. Every few feet, the dog would pause and look back at Rosalind, a glimmer in his eyes as he watched her claw her way up after him.

Finally, they came to an open clearing. Perched in the middle was a large willow tree, free of leaves at this point in the year. It rustled as Rosalind and the dog drew near, but no movement came from the infamous willow.

“What are we doing at the Whomping Willow?” Rosalind whispered to the dog as it slunk closer to the tree. “This thing will beat us to death if we get any closer!”

Moving so quickly that Rosalind almost missed it, he darted forward, ramming his head into a knot in the bark of the tree as it began to wildly wave its branches. 

The tree stopped its incessant rustling, shifting back its roots to reveal a tunnel in the dirt.

Giving Rosalind a meaningful glance, he jumped down into the tunnel, giving a small bark as she hesitated in following him.

“Merlin help me,” Rosalind prayed quietly, running forward with her head low and diving down into the tunnel.

She gave a grunt as she landed at an odd angle, dirt raining down on her head as the root blocking the entrance shifted, and the tunnel sealed shut above her. 

Rosalind pulled out her wand, pointing it out in front of her. “Lumos.”

The wand ignited, revealing the rugged, tired face of Sirius Black looking back at her. 

“Come along,” he whispered, giving Rosalind his hand.

Shaking her head, Rosalind got up by herself. Sirius withdrew his hand with a sad smile, turning on his heel and transforming back into the dog before leading their way down the tunnel. 

They trekked through the underground, Rosalind keeping her head low as to avoid hitting her head on any overhanging roots, for what seemed like miles, until finally they reached a trapdoor. The dog quickly transformed back into Sirius and climbed up, through the trapdoor. Rosalind had no choice but to follow.

Climbing up through the trapdoor, Rosalind found herself in the hallway to a rather dusty, rickety house. It seemed ancient, with broken down furniture and paintings so faded you could barely make out what was on them. Here and there, long claw marks scratched up the wooden walls, and the peeling wallpaper rustled with a breeze the walls couldn’t seem to keep out.

Rosalind drew her arms around herself as she followed the noise of rustling from down the hall. Her uncle was in the kitchen, which was shockingly less dusty than the rest of the house. In the corner, by the hearth, was a ragged pile of various sofa cushions and pillows forged into a cot. Watery light streamed in through the cracks in the boards covering the windows. Around the room, jars of flames illuminated the living space with a glow.

Sirius Black looked back at Rosalind, eye glimmering warily as she sat down at a table near the wall. “I’ll just… start some tea, then.”

“I like tea,” Rosalind stated simply, looking around the living area.

“Right… right…” Sirius grabbed a banged up kettle and filled it with water, lighting the stove with a muggle match before putting the kettle on, and walking over to Rosalind rather awkwardly. “Mind if I sit?”

“It’s your house, isn’t it?” Rosalind raised an eyebrow.

Her uncle gave her a smile. “Believe me, my house is much nicer than this one.”

“Yes,” Rosalind leaned on the table between them. “I’ve been to Grimmauld Place, but we haven’t gone since grandmother passed.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to get in without me there,” Sirius sighed, slouching down in his chair. 

Rosalind nodded, looking at her uncle curiously. She was noticing the small similarities in their faces; the shapes of their noses, the height of their cheekbones. Even the dimples in their cheeks when they smiled, though his were hidden by a raggedy, and poorly trimmed, beard. 

“I believe I ought to introduce myself,” he spoke cautiously, twiddling his fingers. “I’m Sirius Black, though you probably realized that already…”

“You could say that,” Rosalind muttered, crossing her arms. “So, you’re my uncle?”

Sirius gave a small smile. “Right you are, Stygian.”

Rosalind burst out laughing. “Stygian? You think that I’m Stygian?”

Her uncle’s face fell, and he gripped the table tightly. “You mean to say, you’re not…?”

“I’m Rosalind, Rosalind Arcturus Black,” Rosalind was grinning as she stuck her hand out to her uncle. “I’m the younger one.”

“Ah,” Sirius said feebly, taking her hand and giving it a solid shake. “Sorry, I don’t believe I was aware of a younger one.”

Rosalind smiled lightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to be.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “I suppose the family must be going through a hard time, with news of my escape…”

Nodding, Rosalind leaned across the table. “You… you do know that my father isn’t around anymore, right?”

“I… had heard that,” Sirius sighed. “What happened?”

“No one really knows,” Rosalind shrugged, sitting back. “He went out one night and never came back. Mom won’t talk about it.”

“How is she, Primrose?”

“I don’t know if you’d recognize her if you met her today. Everyone from her past says she’s unrecognizable.”

“Is she working?”

“Yup. Assistant to the Minister of Magic himself.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound too surprised.”

Sirius gave a snort. “What about your brother, Stygian? I’m surprised you didn’t bring him.”

“I had to be sure you…” Rosalind gave a nervous swallow, looking away from her uncle.

Sirius nodded. “You had to be sure I didn’t want to kill you.”

Rosalind’s face grew incredibly hot, but she didn’t respond.

The kettle on the stove began to whistle, and Sirius got up and walked over to it. They sat in silence, listening to him pour the tea and bring the cups back to the table. Neither one of them spoke as they each stirred their cups of tea, waiting for the other person to speak.

“How many people did they say I killed?” Sirius managed to choke out, not meeting Rosalind’s eyes.

“The paper that Stygian found said thirteen,” Rosalind whispered, picking up her cup of tea and blowing on it gently.

Sirius nodded, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Did you kill them?” Rosalind choked out, looking up at him. “Did you really betray your friends trust, turn them over to the Dark Lord, and murder thirteen muggles as well as another one of your friends?”

Sirius look at her, perplexed, before breaking out into a wild grin. “Now, is that what they’re saying about me, eh?”

Rosalind put her cup down, staring at her uncle as he began to chuckle. Nervously, she began to chuckle as well. A moment later the two of them were laughing so hard tears were pouring down Sirius’s face. 

“Oh, Rosalind,” Sirius sat back, wheezing slightly. “It’s been a while since I’ve let myself laugh like that.”

“I don’t entirely understand what was so funny,” Rosalind smiled uncertaintly.

“That story,” Sirius smirked, leaning back in his chair. “That absolute load of gossip is nothing but a woven tale with more loose ends than a poor mans winter jacket.”

“Ok…” Rosalind looked at her uncle expectantly. “So, what’s the truth?”

Sirius let out a long sigh, picking up his tea. He stared down at the cup for a long moment before taking a long sip, seemingly lost in thought.

“I would never hurt James or Lily,” Sirius said quietly as he placed the mug back on the table. “They were the closest thing I had to family.”

Rosalind took a long slurp of her tea, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Sirius gulped uncomfortable as he rested his elbows on the table, lost in thought. “I never liked my family. My parents had this pureblood mania, and my brother tried his best to please them. When I arrived at Hogwarts, I made my first ever friends, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin.”

“You were friends with Professor Lupin?” Rosalind gasped, clutching her mug of tea.

“He’s a professor now?” Sirius shook his head. “He was the good boy in our group, old Remus. Prefect for two years running, till James got his hand in the game and became Head Boy to get closer to the muggleborn he had fallen for, Lily Evans.

“The two of them got married sometime after graduation, one of the only bright memories anyone has from the days the Dark Lord was rising to power. Not long after, their son, Harry, was born. They named me godfather to their son, you know? Harry is my godson, the only thing left of James and Lily…”

“What happened?” Rosalind whispered, leaning closer.

“Pettigrew,” Sirius spat, eyes blazing. “Lily and James came to me, asking for help. They were being hunted by You-Know-Who, and wanted me to be the secret keeper for their household. I refused, of course. It was too dangerous to ask someone who had family as devoted to the Dark Lord as I did. Instead they chose Peter, who crumbled beneath the Death Eaters like the wimp he was. 

He sold them out, and it was my fault he was in that position in the first place. I would have died for James and his family, and I overestimated other people’s dedication to them. 

I went after Pettigrew, but the fool knew I was coming. He blew himself up in a public setting, making sure I would take the blame for what we all thought was his last act.”

“Thought?” Rosalind queried. “But, he’s dead. He’s been dead for years.” 

Sirius gave a crazed chuckle. “Ah, fooled us all, didn’t he?”

“I-I don’t understand,” Rosalind shook her head.

“Neither did I,” Sirius sighed, standing up and walking over to his makeshift bed, pulling out a worn newspaper. “Until I noticed this.”

Rosalind took the paper from him, wearily. “This is the paper from when Mr. Weasley won all that money and they went on vacation to Egypt.”

“Precisely,” Sirius beamed, pointing at the photo of the grinning Weasley’s. “Now, what do you see here?”

Rosalind squinted at the photo. “That’s just Ron’s rat, Scabbers.”

“Yes, yes!” Sirius grinned gleefully. “You’ve seen me, as my dog. Peter turned into a rat!”

“How can you be sure that’s even him?” Rosalind mused, squinting at the photo. “The only way I know it’s Scabbers is because it’s with Ron. From the quality of this photo, it could be any rat.”

“Look at his front paw!” Sirius pointed fervently. “He’s missing a toe!”

Rosalind looked up at her uncle, the pieces clicking together in her head. “The most they ever found of Peter Pettigrew was a finger!”

“Precisely!” Sirius beamed, grabbing the newspaper and flinging it across the room. “Rosalind, if you could help me get close enough to Scabbers to find out if it really is him, we could prove my innocence! I could be free! You and your brother and mother could take over Grimmauld Place; I would leave it to you, I want nothing to do with that shack-”

“Hang on,” Rosalind grabbed Sirius by the arm. “We can’t sneak you back into the castle any time soon, their stepping up security after that stunt with the Fat Lady.”

“Never liked her,” Sirius grumbled, sitting back down at the table. “She can’t even sing.”

“You’ll need to lay low until things calm down,” Rosalind continued, crossing her arms. “This morning, I heard a Hufflepuff telling everyone you managed to sneak into the castle because you can turn into a flowering shrub.”

“That is.. unfortunate.” Sirius sighed, taking another swig of tea. “I was hoping to at least see Harry at some point before Christmas.”

Rosalind chewed her lower lip nervously. “If all you really want is to see Harry, I don’t see why a stray dog couldn’t have wandered near the Quidditch pitch this Saturday at noon.”

“He plays Quidditch?” Sirius’s face lit up. “What position?”

“Seeker,” Rosalind said with a sigh, smiling lightly.

“Just like his old man,” Sirius beamed, shaking his head. “Just like James.”

Rosalind stayed in the mysterious shack with Sirius for several hours longer, learning more about him than she could have ever hoped to learn from her mother. He told her about his time in Hogwarts, his parents, how the Potter’s took him in.

The sun had almost finished setting by the time Rosalind realized how hungry she was, and unwillingly suggested that it was time for her to head back. Sirius transformed back into the black dog and led her back through the tunnel, guiding her as far as the clearing with the whomping willow.

“See you Saturday,” Rosalind whispered to the dog with a grin as they emerged out into the frosty air.

He gave a whine and gave her hand a quick lick, before turning tail and disappearing back into the tunnel. 

Rosalind woke late the next morning, just barely making it to the great hall in time for the last of breakfast. She blissfully shoveled food into her mouth, half-listening to Ginny and Collin argue quidditch statistics, lost in her own thoughts. Going about her day in a daze, it took the firm grip of Stygian’s hand on her arm to bring her back to the present.

“Hm?” Rosalind turned to her brother with a questioning look as they neared the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. “Did you say something?”

Stygian gave an exasperated sigh. “I said, where were you last night? I made a corporeal patronus!”

“Congratulations,” Rosalind stated, leaning against the wall. “What animal was it?”

Stygian scowled angrily. “A moth.”

“A moth?” Rosalind burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

“A powerful moth!” Stygian cried out, hands on his hips. “That’s besides the point. Where were you?”

Rosalind swallowed nervously. “I… I was with-”

“Rosa!” 

Stygian let out a groan as the two of them turned around, Rosalind smiling at the newcomer.

“Hi, Harry.”

Harry smiled at Rosalind before looking at Stygian. “What are you doing here?”

“Just on my way to class,” Stygian sad with a weak smirk, turning to Rosalind with concern in his eyes. “Talk after dinner?”

“Of course,” Rosalind smiled softly, giving Stygian a quick hug before watching him head away down the hall.

“Where have you been hiding?” Harry said, nudging Rosalind in the arm as they headed into the classroom.

“Hiding? I wasn’t hiding,” Rosalind said a bit too quickly as she took her seat next to Harry in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. “Why would you think I was hiding?”

“I was looking for you, but no one seemed to know where you had gone,” Harry gave her a worried look. “Ginny said you’d been distracted since Halloween…”

“I’m fine, Harry,” Rosalind muttered, turning away from him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t really help it,” Harry said so quietly she barely heard him, but before she could say anything a sickly looking Professor Lupin stood up from his desk and class began.

She couldn’t help but notice the odd looks people kept casting her way, and the whispers coming from Lavender and Parvati as Professor Lupin called her name on the attendance role. She leaned back, focusing on the conversations behind her. 

“—...Uncle?”

“—can’t——father——disappeared—”

“—think——helping?”

“—don’t know——seems nice—”

“Seems—”

Harry nudged Rosalind in the arm. “Pay attention, eh, Black?”

Rosalind gave him a half smile and leaned over her desk, pretending to take notes as she tried to process the whispers that seemed to play back in her head.                                                                                                          

The rest of the week Rosalind was in a distracted daze. After filling in Stygian on everything that had happened on Monday, the two of them had spent nearly every spare moment in the library, reading up as much about their family history as they could. 

When she wasn’t in the library, Rosalind was with Ginny, Colin, and Estelle in or outside the common room, listening to and often participating in the neverending complaining about their new portrait hole guard, Sir Cadogan and his fat grey pony. Her friends pretended not to notice the dirty looks people would cast Rosalind’s way whenever somebody brought up Sirius Black destroying their usual portrait, and for that Rosalind was grateful. However, it didn’t change the fact that Gryffindor house had shifted its attitude towards the egghead second year. Nobody was very happy. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day. 

“Can’t we get anyone else?” People kept asking Percy, as if he had any control over the situation.

“None of the other pictures wanted the job,” Percy would say. “Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer.” 

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team were training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. On the day before the match, an announcement was made that Gryffindor would be playing Hufflepuff rather than their original opponent, Slytherin, on account of their seeker Draco’s injured arm.

“He’s faking it!” Harry kept saying, not letting go of the situation in Care of Magical Creatures.

“We know,” Ron, Hermione, or Rosalind would reply.

Saturday morning, Rosalind was too nervous to stay asleep. She kept waking up and checking the clock, until finally she decided there wouldn’t be any harm in checking in on Sirius before the match. Quickly getting dressed in warm pants, a thick, black, turtleneck, and her Gryffindor scarf for team spirit, Rosalind crept out of the bedroom. Grabbing a large umbrella and running down the steps two at a time, she slid out of the staircase leading to the girls dorm and nearly ran into Harry Potter.

“Harry!” Rosalind cried out, more annoyed than surprised. “What are you doing up?”

“Just… thinking,” Harry gave her a curious look. “What about you? Where were you going in such a hurry?”

“... For a walk,” Rosalind bit her lip and looked down at the umbrella in her hands. 

Harry didn’t need to say anything as he raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly out the common room window, where they could see pouring rain lashing at the castle walls, and the surrounding forests.

Rosalind opened her mouth defensively, ready to shoot back a retort, but a roll of thunder cut her off.

“Yeah, okay,” Harry shook his head, a smile on his face. “Since you’re not going out there, why don’t you keep me company?”

Looking out the window, Rosalind wanted desperately to argue, but she could see there wouldn’t be any point to it. Sighing heavily, she followed Harry over to the common room fireplace, and sunk into the sofa next to him.

They sat in silence for a moment, trying not to look at each other as they watched the fire crackling in the hearth. Thunder rolled in the distance, and a small  _ mew _ came from the other side of the common room.

“Crookshanks!” Rosalind grinned as the cat padded over to them, casting a dirty look at Harry as it climbed up next to Rosalind and collapsed half on the sofa, half on her lap.

“I caught him trying to get into our room earlier,” Harry said with a smirk at the cat as Rosalind began to scratch him behind the ear. “Reckon he was trying to get to Scabbers again.”

“Scabbers?” Rosalind looked up at Harry, then back down at Crookshanks. “Really?”

Harry gave her an odd look. “Yeah, Crookshanks been obsessed with Scabbers since Hermione introduced the two of them on the train here.”

“Really?” Rosalind leaned closer to Crookshanks, looking into his half closed eyes. “What do you know, hm?”

“Pardon?”

“Um, about Scabbers!” Rosalind looked up at Harry quickly. “What do you know about Scabbers, huh?”

“Not… much?” Harry looked incredibly concerned. “He’s been Ron’s pet for a while; Percy passed him down to Ron I’m pretty sure.”

Rosalind nodded, looking down at Crookshanks curiously. Whenever she mentioned Scabbers’ name his ears perked slightly, and one of his eyes opened up. It was almost as if he was listening in to their conversation…

“Rosa.”

Rosalind gave a jump as Harry reached over and put his hand on top of hers, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“It feels like you’re hiding something,” Harry said quietly, scooting closer to Rosalind. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Rosalind gave a smirk, leaning slightly closer to her friend. “Why do you ask, Harry? Is there something you want to hear?”

Harry leaned even closer to Rosalind, opening his mouth to reply, when a clap of thunder cut him off abruptly. They both jumped slightly, arms brushing as they turned to look out the window. 

“I… I was hoping to talk to you about something,” Harry admitted, turning back to Rosalind. “But only if you wouldn’t mind talking about it.”

“Okay,” Rosalind looked at him, leaning in hopefully. “What did you want to talk about?”

Harry looked at her, nervouseness showing in his eyes. “What do you know about your Uncle, Sirius Black?”

Rosalind drew back, causing Crookshanks to give an irritated hiss and run off towards the boys dormitory. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“We talked about this already,” Rosalind stood up very quickly, bristling a little too defensively. “I already told you my mother didn’t like talking about him. You were with us, this summer. Stygian and I both told you we don’t know a thing, so why don’t you believe us?”

“I know you two have been researching him in the library,” Harry admitted guiltily, looking down. “Hermione saw the books you two were flipping through-”

“Well, I’m sorry for wanting to know more about my Uncle!” Rosalind huffed, crossing her arms. 

“This is the man everyone is convinced is trying to kill me!” Harry cried out, throwing his hands in the air. “I just want to know what I’m up against this year!”

Rosalind snorted angrily, turning away. “Not everyone is convinced he’s trying to kill you. You weren’t the only person the Ministry had to protect this summer.”

“Rosa,” Harry stood up and grabbed her hand for a second. “Wait, I’m sorry if I came off-”

“Self-centered?” Rosalind turned around, looking at Harry through narrowed eyes as she pulled her hand away and backed away towards the portrait hole. “See you at the game.”

Aware of Harry staring helplessly after her, Rosalind grabbed her umbrella from the floor and ran over to the portrait hole and climber through, slamming it shut behind her and giving an angry huff.

“Who wakes Sir Codogan?!” Came a shout from behind her as she walked away from the common room. “Stand your ground and fight, you mangy curr!”

“Oh, shut up,” Rosalind snapped, gripping the handle of her umbrella tightly as she marched down the hall to the library, thoroughly disappointed in the turn their conversation had taken, and desperate to find a book to take her mind off of Harry Potter.

After a fruitful discovery of the Impervius charm, a water repelling charm Rosalind gratefully cast on her umbrella, she headed down to breakfast to meet up with Ginny, Estelle, and Colin for the big game. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Rosalind managed to convince her friends to sit in the crowded stands next to her brother and his friends, squeezing Stygian under her umbrella alongside Estelle, while Ginny, Colin, and Harper shared an umbrella behind them. 

“Did you see the dog in the topmost corner of the stands?” She whispered to her brother as Estelle got distracted stealing some candy from Colin.

“Is it really… you know?” Stygian gave Rosalind a look caught between nervousness and excitement. 

Rosalind gave him a nod, grinning, and Stygian bounced excitedly in his seat as they both turned to the drenched Quidditch pitch.

The wind was so strong the the teams were sent staggering sideways as they walked out onto the pit. It deafened any noise coming out of the pit; not even an amplification spell could make the usually shrill whistle that started the games loud enough for the packed stands to hear. 

The game was painful to watch, both emotionally and physically. The players were battling both each other, and the wind, while the people in the stands were scared to look to high up at the players out of feat of the rain that lashed at their faces.

Hermione, who had been sitting with Ron in front of Rosalind, turned back to her a few minutes into the game.

“Can you think of any spell that could help them?!” She shouted over the noise of both the stands and the weather. 

Rosalind hesitated, still bristling from her encounter with Harry that morning. “The Impervius charm could help them see through the rain…”

Hermione blinked, seemingly surprised, and nodded briefly. “You’re right, that’s brilliant!”

Soon enough the teams called for a break, flying down into the muddy pit to regroup and huddle. Rosalind watched from her somewhat dry perch as Hermione ran out to the team and took Harry’s glasses from him before looking away with a sigh.

“You alright?” Estelle asked, nudging her in the arm.

“I’m cold,” Rosalind grumbled, huddling closer to her friend. 

Stygian gave a snort. “We’re all cold.”

“If they don’t end this game soon, it could go into the night,” Estelle fret, glancing up at the darkening sky.

“To be fair,” Rosalind looked at her friend with a smile, “when you say night at this time of year, you could be talking about four o’clock, or eleven o’clock.”

Stygian gave a snort of as Estelle rolled her eyes, grinning as Rosalind began to laugh. 

Wild cheering from the crowds made the three of them turn quickly to the pitch, in time to see the two teams take off back into the wind and rain. Rosalind watch Harry, who seemed to be flying like a brand new player as he swerved past a bludger and ducked under the Hufflepuff seeker. 

Suddenly, lightning flashed across the sky. Rosalind let out a gasp as the Gryffindor seeker slid sharply to the side of his broom, just barely managing to stay on. They watched as Harry turned to see the Hufflepuff seeker on top of him, chasing a golden streak. For a brief moment they raced, neck to neck, flying across the pitch at a dizzying speed.

All of a sudden, the noise of the pitch began to fade. Rosalind leaned against Stygian as the temperature dropped drastically, freezing them in place. She was dimly aware of Estelle and Draco, Estelle tugging on her arm frantically while Draco did his best to take Stygian with his one working arm, but they were rooted in place. 

Two dementors soared over the pitch, decaying hands reaching for Rosalind as they drifted closer, and closer, silver light streaming out from under their hooded silhouettes and reaching out for Rosalind.

“Expecto Patronum!” 

Rosalind gasped frantically, clawing at Estelle as her friend wrapped her arms around her in the pouring rain.

“Are you alright?!” Estelle was gasping, grabbing Rosalind's face in her hands.

“I…” Rosalind couldn’t speak as she looked at her brother, who was triumphantly high fiving Draco’s working hand next to her.

“Did you see it?!” He asked weakly, his face looking incredibly drained as he pointed up at the retreating dementors. “Rosa, I did it!”

“You did, Styg,” Rosalind whispered, clutching Estelle’s hand tightly.

“I’m taking her to the hospital wing,” Estelle snapped at Stygian. “Are you going to help?”

Stygian nodded before promptly slumping against Draco in a faint.

Draco looked over at Rosalind, his face amused. “Who needs Quidditch when your brother provides all the entertainment you need?”

Stygian stirred from his faint a few moments later, and was led up to the hospital wing by Draco alongside Rosalind and Estelle. Madame Pomfrey gave them each a selection of chocolate and a sleeping potion, setting them up in hospital beds for the night. They didn’t have much of an opportunity to chat before they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

When Rosalind awoke, the sky was starting to get brighter with stars still shining outside, and the quiet breathing of Stygian and Harry filled the near silence of the hall. She lay in her bed, unable to fall back asleep, until finally she climbed out of bed and went over to the window, sitting down in the windowsill and listening to the lull of the drizzling rain.

“Rosa?”

Rosalind turned around to see a tired Harry sitting up in his bed by the window, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey, Harry,” Rosalind said quietly, leaning against the brick. “How are you feeling?”

“Shaken,” Harry said quietly, looking down at his feet. “No one else has reactions to the dementors as severe as I do, it would seem.”

Rosalind frowned at Harry. “You can shut up.”

“What?”

“Why do you think Styg and I have to spend the night here? For fun?”

Harry gulped nervously. “I don’t want to argue with you, Rosa.”

“Then stop saying stupid things,” Rosalind snapped, turning back to the window. “You always act like you’re alone, Harry. Like everything bad is just happening to you. Like last year, for example. Yes, everyone did assume you were the Heir of Slytherin, but Ginny was literally possessed by the Dark Lord. And now this year… “

They sat in silence for a moment, soft snores echoing down the hall from where Stygian lay sleeping.

“I’m sorry that it comes off that way,” Harry finally said, quietly. “I guess I’m just not used to having people close to me. No one has ever been… involved in my life before.”

Rosalind sighed and leaned against the window, pressing her cheek against the cold glass, watching her breath cloud up on the surface. “Well, get used to it.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but a faint rustling came from the bed behind her. A moment later, she felt something soft fall in her lap, and Rosalind turned to find a blanket Harry had hovered over to her. Smiling softly, she wrapped the blanket around herself and curled up, looking over at Harry. Though it was too dark to tell, she was fairly certain that his green eyes were looking right back at her as they watched each other doze off in the November night.

Since Harry was confined to the hospital wing for the remainder of the weekend, and most of Gryffindor house seemed too preoccupied with making him feel better after both the loss of the game and of his broom to worry about Rosalind, she managed to sneak Stygian out to the mysterious shack. He nervously asked Rosalind question after question as they made their way down the tunnel, each carrying a sack of food they managed to smuggle from the lunch and breakfast buffets.

“What color was the dog, again?”

“Black.”

“Right, right. Makes sense. Do you think he could show us how to-”

“Ask him yourself,” Rosalind paused, turning to Stygian and gesturing up to the wooden trap door above her. “We’re here.”

She opened up the trap door, climbing up into the familiar, dusty house and helping a shaky Stygian up after her.

“Uncle!” Rosalind shouted, stomping down the hall towards the kitchen. “It’s me, Rosalind!”

“Who’s with you?” Came a gruff call from the kitchen as Rosalind turned to corner to find Sirius perched on his makeshift bed, reading over a newspaper.

Stygian hesitated for a moment before stepping out from behind Rosalind. “U-Uncle Sirius?”

Sirius jerked his head up, eyes widening as they sought out Stygian. His face broke into a grin and he jumped up from the cot, throwing the newspaper to the side. “Stygian, my boy!”

Stygian remainder rooted in place as Sirius ran over, throwing his arms around Stygian for a brief second, before letting go and giving him a good natured pat on the shoulder. 

“Looks just like his mother, doesn’t he?” He laughed.

Rosalind let out a giggle as Stygian stared at their uncle, dumbfounded. 

“Y-you’re really here?” he choked out, looking from Rosalind back to Sirius. 

“What, you didn’t believe me?” Rosalind smirked, punching him in the arm. 

“You’ve been known to lie,” Stygian muttered, turning to Sirius. “One time, she spent a week tailing mom at work, learning everything she could about the Minister of Magic, just so that she could pretend to be his granddaughter and sneak into a concert.”

“The Weird Sisters were playing a sold out show!” Rosalind objected, crossing her arms. “I managed to get backstage passes and spaces in the very front of the pit, all for free!”

“Mother was furious when she found out,” Stygian smirked, looking back at their Uncle.

Sirius gave Rosalind a side hug. “We have more in common than I would have thought.”

“Show Stygian Snuffles,” Rosalind begged, pulling back from her uncle to give him space.

Winking at the two of them, Sirius turned on his heel and began to shrink; his beard seemed to expand till it covered the entirety of his body. Stygian watched, awestruck, as Sirius, now the black dog Snuffles, sat on his haunches and gave a low bark.

“Incredible!” Stygian kneeled down on the ground, inspecting the dog from every angle. “I have so many questions!” 

Rosalind exchanged an amused glance with Snuffles as Stygian pulled out his wand and transfigured a stick on the ground into a ruler, grabbing hold of Snuffles by the tail as he began taking measurements.

“Does it hurt when you transform?” Stygian asked eagerly as he measured Sirius’ fur. “How long ago did you become an animagus? No one in our family is naturally an animagus, so you must have gone through the process. Are you registered at the ministry? Are you able to communicate with all other animals, just other animagi, or just dogs? Are you even able-”

“Stygian,” Rosalind interrupted, pulling him away from the hassled dog. “He’s not going to be able to respond unless you give him space to transform.

Stygian nodded eagerly, watching with wide eyes as Sirius turned back into himself, casting Stygian a half amused, half irritated look.

“You’re definitely your mother's son,” he wheezed, going over to the stovetop. “Tea?”

“Of course,” Rosalind smiled, taking the bags of food they had brought along with them. “Here, this should keep you going for a bit.”

“Much obliged,” Sirius bowed deeply before taking the bags of food and putting them into the muggle refrigerator in the corner. “Sit down, you two. I can see I need to explain a few things.”

Rosalind sat down at the table, pulling up a chair for Stygian. He took his seat excitedly, looking up at Sirius with eyes brimming with questions.

Sirius placed a kettle on the lit stove before sitting down next to them with a sigh. “So, I’m an animagus. No, Stygian, I’m not registered with the ministry, but neither were any of my friends.”

“What?” Stygian leaned forward curiously. “What do you-”

“Shut up and listen,” Rosalind snapped, putting her hand over her brother’s mouth to stop him from asking more questions. He shot her a glare and gave her hand a pointed lick, and she drew it away in disgust.

“I had friends, Stygian,” Sirius said, amused. “As many as three best friends, in fact. James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. We all had to ability to transform into a different animal, which we gained after a rather long and stressful process.”

“Process?” Stygians eyes gleamed with excitement, his interest peaked.

“Wait, Professor Lupin can transform too? Into what?” Rosalind put her hand on Stygian’s shoulder and gave Sirius a questioning look.

“He must be registered now,” Stygian said thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s a Professor at Hogwarts. They wouldn’t let just anyone teach here.”

“Well…” Rosalind winced as she remembered Professor Lockhart, wincing visibly.

Stygian looked at Rosalind's face, and conceded. “No, no. You have a point.”

“I’m sure Remus has taken whatever steps are necessary for him to be an adequate Professor,” Sirius said deftly, avoiding Rosalind’s questioning gaze.

“Why hasn’t he ever mentioned you to us before?” Stygian questioned, scratching his head. “I mean, Rosalind and I have private lessons with him most Monday evenings, even though he’s been sick for the last few. Point being, he’s never brought you, or anything about his old Hogwarts friends, up.”

“The man thinks I’m behind the murder of two of his best friends,” Sirius said, amused. “That can’t be an easy thing to talk about with the niece and nephew of a man you thought was your friend.”

Rosalind exchanged a look with Stygian, her own questions reflecting in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time we have a chat with Professor Remus Lupin…"


	10. Relations

That Monday, everyone was delighted to see Professor Lupin back in the classroom. He had taken sick leave the previous two weeks, and Rosalind could tell with a quick look at him that he wasn’t feeling entirely up to teaching. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about their substitute, Professor Snape, and his behaviour while Lupin had been ill. 

“It’s not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?”

“We don’t know anything about werewolves –”

“– two rolls of parchment!”

“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven’t covered them yet?” Lupin asked, frowning slightly. 

The babble broke out again. 

“Yes, but he said we were really behind –” 

“– he wouldn’t listen –”

“– two rolls of parchment!” 

Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Professor Snape. You don’t have to do the essay.” 

“Oh no,” said Hermione, shooting a disappointed look over at Rosalind. “We’ve already finished ours!”

“Perhaps, some extra credit?” Rosalind smiled sweetly at the Professor, placing the scrolls on the table.

There was a snort from the back of the classroom, accompanied by traveling whispers. 

“With a family like hers, of course she’ll get top grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Probably been doing it her whole life.”

Bristling, Rosalind turned and glared at the back of the room, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the whisper.

“We’ll get back to that extra credit,” Professor Lupin smiled kindly, turning to the board. 

They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who seemed as though he was made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking. 

“Lures travellers into bogs,” said Professor Lupin, as they took notes. “You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead – people follow the light – then –” 

The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass. 

When the bell rang Rosalind ran up to the Professor's desk, smiling up at him.

“No, I’m afraid I’m not feeling entirely up to the lesson today, Rosalind,” Professor Lupin seemed to read her mind as he smiled kindly at her. “I promise I’ll let you know when I am.”

“Oh… alright,” Rosalind bit her lip nervously. “I had been hoping, you know, since Stygian learned how to cast his patronus last lesson-”

“You would have too, had you been there,” Professor Lupin raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t get a chance to ask, where were you that evening, Miss Rosalind?”

“Sleeping,” Rosalind said too quickly. “I wasn’t feeling too well. I fainted after the feast, you know.”

Professor Lupin gave her a searching look as the students behind Rosalind began to file out. “I see. Well, I’ll be certain to let you know as soon as I have to time for another lesson. For now, I have a bit of paperwork to catch up on. You can prepare by finding out exactly what your happy thought is.”

“Alright,” Rosalind sighed, backing away from the desk. “Thank you, Professor Lupin.”

“Of course, Rosalind.”

For the remainder of winter term, Professor Lupin avoided the Black siblings. There were numerous occasions during which Rosalind, or Stygian, or both of them would come up to Professor Lupin and ask for their patronus lessons to be resumed, but as more and more days went by without any aggressive sightings of the notorious criminal Sirius Black, Professor Lupin and the rest of the staff allowed themselves to believe the worst was behind them.

Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings, Rosalind and Stygian would sneak out to take the tunnel beneath the whomping willow to their uncle’s hideout. Sirius was always delighted to see them, ready with an easy laugh and a hot cup of tea. They brought him socks and blankets to last out the winter, and food to last him through their next visit. He was incredibly grateful for their deliveries, seeing as the outside world had turned a dazzling, opaline white, and the muddy grounds were coated in sparkling blankets of snow.

Rosalind and Stygian had decided once again to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. Their mother had warned them that if they did come home for the holidays, they would be watched by aurors 24/7, and forbidden from going outside to play in the snow, and neither of them wanted to put up with that. Rosalind was more than happy at the prospect of having a gossip-free castle for a few weeks. 

Harry, Hermione, and Ron would also be remaining at Hogwarts for the holidays, so Rosalind was confident that she wouldn’t be entirely on her own in Gryffindor house. Ginny would have stayed, but her mother still hadn’t entirely recovered from her ordeal the previous year and wouldn’t allow it. To compensate, Ginny convinced Hermione to sleep in her bed over the holidays, that way the two of them wouldn’t be entirely alone in the girls dormitory. 

The lack of students in the houses allowed Rosalind and Stygian to work together on their animagus transformation process without having to worry about stares following them around. It took a surprisingly small amount of convincing to get Uncle Sirius to reveal the animagus process, as well as where they could find in depth instructions. Rosalind then forged a note from Professor Snape giving them permission to check out  _ Animalistic Properties of Self Transfiguration _ and  _ Most Potente Potions _ from the restricted section of the library, sweet talking her way past Madame Pince’s suspicious glare and prying questions.

“This has got to be the most complicated potion I’ve ever seen,” Stygian breathed, eyebrows furrowed together as the two of them leaned over the book, 

“Don’t worry, big brother,” Rosalind leaned back and punched him in the arm. “We have two weeks without classmates to figure it out. It should be more than enough time to find the ingredients without compromising them.”

“Right, right,” Stygian nodded. “Merlin, we should split up the ingredients then, to make sure we have everything ready when it does come time to brew the potion.”

Rosalind gave a curt nod, leaning back over the textbook. “I can find the mandrake leaves and… the chrysalis of whatever that is.”

“A death’s-head hawk moth,” Stygian said with a grin.

“Of course you know it, moth boy,” Rosalind scoffed, and Stygian shot her a glare. “You get the dew on the silver teaspoon, and the pure glass vial.”

“I don’t think we need to gather our hairs,” Stygian said with a smirk. 

Rosalind rolled her eyes and stood up from the table. “Alright, well I’m going to look for more information on these moths. You do you, brother dear.”

Stygian rolled his eyes and smirked at Rosalind as she shot him a wink at darted over to the section of the library where she had found the information about basilisks the previous year. 

Rounding the corner, Rosalind gave a small yelp as she nearly crashed headfirst into Hermione. Her friend gasped and jumped slightly, causing several of the books she was carrying to fall to the ground.

“Rosalind!” She gasped, giving a smile as she tried to pick the books up off the floor. “We were looking for you earlier, did you hear what happened to Hagrid?”

“Hang on, let me help,” Rosalind chuckled as she leaned down and picked up the books. “And no, I didn’t hear.”

Hermione flashed her a grateful smile as they approached a table on the far side of the library, where Ron and an irritated looking Harry were sitting surrounded by open books and scribbled notes.

“What the heck is going on?” Rosalind flashed Hermione a bemused expression.

Hermione gave a huff as she placed the books down on the table next to Rosalind. “Well, do you remember at the beginning of term, when Hagrid’s hippogriff, Buckbeak, allegedly attacked Draco?”

“How could I forget?” Rosalind scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I think he still keeps his arm in that stupid sling. Not even muggle medicine would take this long to heal one scratch.”

Ron gave a snort of laughter as he looked up from his book and Hermione gave a small grin, dropping it after a moment.

“Right, well, looks like Draco’s father has pulled some strings with the school governors. They want to hold a hearing for Buckbeak, to try to hold him accountable for his actions.”

“It’s not fair!” Harry burst out, looking up from the book he was reading, anger flashing in his eyes. “Backbeak didn’t do anything!”

“We know, Harry,” Ron soothed as Hermione and Rosalind shushed Harry.

“Harry’s still upset, in case you didn’t notice,” Hermione whispered in Rosalind’s ear, too quietly for the boys to hear.

Rosalind gave a small smile, dropping it quickly. “Alright, well, I need to go back to looking for a book on a project I’m helping Stygian with, but maybe I can help you later?”

“Hopefully not too much later,” Ron whispered with a sly glance at Hermione. “Some of us wanted to enjoy our holidays, one of the only times we can get away from books.”

Hermione punched Ron in the arm as Rosalind let out a quiet chuckle. “Be careful what you wish for, Ronald.”

Hermione and Ron whispered quiet goodbyes to Rosalind as she walked back to the bookshelves, letting out a deep sigh.She had just convinced herself that it was time to tell Harry about her uncle’s innocence, but then Hogsmeade weekend had happened. Hermione had told her all about how Harry had snuck out to meet her and Ron in Hogsmeade village. They had followed a group of Hogwarts Professors into a side room in the Three Broomsticks, where they overheard the false truth about her Uncle Sirius, and how he had betrayed James and Lily Potter. After that incident, Harry had been unreachable and unconsolable, swearing that he hated Sirius Black, and saying that her Uncle deserved to pay for his crimes. Rosalind was too scared to try to tell him now.

On Christmas morning, Rosalind and Hermione woke to a small pile of presents lying at the foot of their beds. Grinning with excitement, they drew back the curtains to let in light, and got to tearing at the colorful wrapping paper.

“Wow!” Rosalind grinned, pulling out her very own Christmas jumper, alongside a Christmas greeting card, from Mrs. Weasley. It was saffron yellow, with an embroidered letter R on the front in Gryffindor red.

“You got your own, too?” Hermione grinned from the bed next to her, where she was pulling on her own jumper. 

“I’m touched,” Rosalind smiled, reaching for the next package. “I didn’t think that she’d make me my own, I was ready to steal Ron’s.”

“You wouldn’t need to steal it,” Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. “He can’t stand maroon.”

“What’s this?” Rosalind pulled out a long, bulky package wrapped in plain, brown paper. It was signed with a black paw print.

“Who’s it from?” Hermione asked curiously, coming over to Rosalind's bed. 

“My grandma!” Rosalind said quickly, tearing off the paper to hide the signature. “From my mom’s side, of course. Grandmother Black passed a few years-”

“Merlin's beard, Rosa!”

Rosalind and Hermione stared down at the end piece to the elegantly polished stick of wood she had unwrapped, on which the word FIREBOLT was hand carved in elegant letters. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” Rosalind whispered as she slowly tore off the rest of the wrapping paper, revealing the smooth, elegant broomstick.

“Do you even ride?” Hermione asked, confused. “Maybe it was meant for Stygian?”

“I’m insulted,” Rosalind laughed, picking up the broom. “How could you think that Stygian would be more likely to ride a broom than me?”

Hermione shrugged, glancing back at the broom with a worried expression on her face, but finally allowing herself to smile lightly. “Well, I hope you can handle it. I don’t think Harry could.”

Rosalind's smile slowly fell from her face as Hermione’s words sunk in. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she got a broom, so soon after Harry’s was destroyed by the whomping willow. And her Uncle knew about that, which could mean…

Still gripping the handle of the Firebolt, Rosalind ran out of the room and down the stairwell, taking the steps to the boys dormitory two at a time. She burst into Harry and Ron’s room, gasping for breath, and stared dumbfounded at Harry Potter, who was standing in the middle of the room holding his own Firebolt.

“Rosa!” Ron grinned, looking at her happily. “You’ve got a jumper! Wait, is that-”

“A Firebolt?” Harry stared at Rosalind, frozen with shock. “Does that mean you know who sent mine?”

“What?” Rosalind gasped, going in and taking a seat on an empty bed. “You mean, you don’t know?”

Harry shook his head as Ron joined Harry in the center of the room. “It was unmarked.”

“Wow,” Rosalind looked from Ron to Harry. “Crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harry looked from his broom to Rosalind's before looking up into her eyes. “Crazy.”

A moment later, Hermione came into the room, holding Crookshanks. She placed the cat down next to Rosalind before turning and facing Harry, but Rosalind wasn’t listening to her. She was too busy watching Crookshanks. 

The cat was watching Ron intently, eyes flickering over to Rosalind after a moment as he gave a meow of complaint.

“I know Scabbers is in there,” Rosalind whispered, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. “You think you can get him, hm?”

Crookshanks flicked his ear and butted his head against Rosalind's cheek, right where she had the Mandrake leaf tucked. She looked at the cat in disbelief as he gave her a knowing look before flicking his tail and sprang from Seamus’s bed, right at Ron’s chest. 

“GET – HIM – OUT – OF – HERE!” Ron bellowed, as Crookshanks’s claws ripped his pyjamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. 

Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks which hit the trunk at the end of Harry’s bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop on the spot, howling with pain. 

Crookshanks’s fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny whistling was filling the room. A Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from a pair of old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor. 

“Shut it up!” Rosalind yelled, covering her ears with her hands as she edged back to the end of the bed closest to the wall.

“I forgot about that!” Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. “I never wear those socks if I can help it …”

The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it. 

“You’d better take that cat out of here, Hermione,” said Ron furiously; he was sitting on Harry’s bed nursing his toe. “Can’t you shut that thing up?” he added to Harry, as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks’s yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron. 

Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron’s stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron’s hands. 

“Well, Merry Christmas,” Rosalind took a hard look at Scabbers as she passed by Ron on her way to the door. There was a missing toe on his front paw.

Hermione was more than disgruntled throughout the rest of the morning. She made an effort to bug Rosalind about the sender of her Firebolt, and then again to speak with Professor McGonagall at dinner. Rosalind wasn’t around to hear what went down between them; she was too busy wolfing down dinner alongside Stygian to get back to tracking down their potions ingredients. 

“Did you get something from Snuffles?” Rosalind whispered to her brother as they headed out of the Great Hall, first to leave the Christmas dinner. 

Stygian winked at her, pulling an ornate box out of his bag. “Check it out!”

Rosalind opened the box and gave a low whistle, giving Stygian an impressed look. Nestled amongst a velvet lining was an old and shrinkled human hand. Embedded in the palm was a three wick candle. The hand seemed to twitch its fingers as Rosalind looked it over, but before she could be sure, Stygian slammed the lid shut and tucked it away into his bag.

“A hand of glory?” Rosalind shook her head as they came to a halt outside the portrait of Sir Cadogan. “He must have more money than we thought.”

“Oh yeah?” Stygian raised an eyebrow at Rosalind as she put her hand on the edge of the portrait. “What did you get?”

“A Firebolt,” Rosalind stated with a grin, winking at her brother. “I’m going to go get it and then head off to the Owlery to check the rafters for a chrysalis. How’s the mandrake leaf?”

“Soaking,” Stygian winced, gingerly touching his hand to left cheek. “I can’t wait to get it out.”

“Keep praying that the next full moon is clear,” Rosalind crossed her fingers and held them up in the air. “Otherwise we’re going to have to start all over.”

Stygian saluted her before turning and heading back down the stairs, towards the Slytherin common rooms. 

Turning to the portrait, Rosalind sighed and raised her eyebrow at Sir Cadogan. “Scurvy hur?”

“And same to you!” Sir Cadogan bellowed from behind the portrait, taking a hearty swig of a bottle of mead as he swung open the portrait door.

Rosalind smiled weakly at the portrait before running inside, grabbing her Firebolt from the bedroom and running back down the stairs and into the hall. Running over to the nearest window, she unlatched the heavy iron locks and pushed the freezing glass open. Cold wind rushed into the stone castle, blowing Rosalind's hair back as she stepped onto the window ledge. 

Swinging her leg over the broom, she grinned wildly to herself as she pushed off from the rock wall of the castle and shot forward. The frost air stung her face as she flew around Gryffindor tower, adjusting to the Firebolt. The broom cut through the cold winter wind with ease, not even the breezy bursts that knocked branches off their trees caused it to tremble. 

Within a minute, Rosalind dashed from the tower over to the owlery, gasping for breath as she slowly descended to the ground and dismounted the broom. Gingerly reaching up, Rosalind attempted to smooth out her curly, wind-blown hair, but it refused to lay flat.

Broom tucked under her arm, Rosalind pushed open the Owlery doors so hard that they swung into the stone walls with a deafening bang. Angry shreeches and hoots filled the air as owls throughout the room woke from their sleep, clucking their beaks angrily as they glared at Rosalind in the musty light. 

“Sorry,” Rosalind whispered up the them, smiling sheepishly as she ducked her head, running over to the staircase. Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran up to the Owlery attic, where there was fresh hay for the owls and tools to clean up all their pellets with. Not many people came up here, and the Owlery wasn’t cleaned nearly as often as the rest of the castle, so it seemed like a good place to start the search for her death’s-head hawk moth chrysalis. 

Igniting her wand, Rosalind got down on her hands and knees and crawled along the floor of the rounded attic, eyes skimming the surface of the wooden floor as the pawed through cobwebs, dust, and hay in search of the chrysalis. 

After a full half hour of searching, Rosalind sat up and stretched her sore back, leaning against one of the wooden rafters as she watched the shadows the setting sun cast through the openings in the wall creep along the floor. Below her, rustles and quiet hoots were becoming more and more frequent as the owls slowly began to wake, ready for an evening of hunting. And amongst the rustling flaps of wings, was a thud of footsteps that seemed to draw closer, and closer.

Rosalind cautiously leaned out over the opening at the top of the staircase, holding up her wand warily as light illuminated the hulking figure that climbed the owlery steps. “Hagrid?”

Hagrid looked up, gasping for breath, and a smile broke out across his face. “Is that there Miss Rosalind Black?”

“The one and only,” Rosalind grinned as the large man climbed into the attic, huffing for breath. He took a seat on the floor and put down the lantern he was holding, looking over at Rosalind curiously.

“What’re ye doing all the way out here?”

Rosalind sighed and leaned against the wall, mind racing as she tried to come up with a believable lie. “I’m looking for a rare ingredient for potion; I was hoping that Professor Snape would give me extra credit. My grade in potions is tanking.”

Hagrid gave her a curious look. “Ol’ Professor Snap is not known fer giving out extra credit, eh?”

“We haven’t exactly discussed it yet,” Rosalind said quickly, trying to look embarrassed. “That’s why I said I’m hoping he’ll give me extra credit.”

“Well, what’re ye looking fer?” Hagrid leaned forward eagerly. “I keep all sorts of oddities in me hut, all sorts of creatures come through these grounds.”

“Have you seen a death’s-head hawk moth chrysalis?” Rosalind leaned forward eagerly.

“Course ah’ do,” Hagrid boomed, getting to his feet. “Tell ye’ what, if ye’ help me clean out all this ol’ hay, I’ll be more ‘en happy to give one to ye’.”

“Deal!” Rosalind grinned, jumping up. “What do you want me to do?”

For the next hour, Rosalind and Hagrid cleaned the owlery as best as they could. Rosalind went around, using her wand to enchant a cleaning broom to sweep the pile of hay into neat piled along the floor. Hagrid picked up the piles and tossed them into a wheelbarrow by the door that never seemed to be completely full. Once the floor was cleared, Rosalind flew up to the attic and tossed down piles of hay to Hagrid. A lot of the hay never made it to the ground, and simply drifted onto the various window ledges and landings the owls roosted in, making clean new nests for them to enjoy.

“I heard about Buckbeak,” Rosalind said to Hagrid as the two of them made their way across the snow to his hut. “Hermione and I are doing as much research as we can to help your case.”

“The lot of ye’ are too kind,” Hagrid said with a smile, his eyes beginning to tear up. “I hope it jus’ manages to make a difference. Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures, they’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures, they do.”

Hagrid pushed open the door to his hut, leading Rosalind into the wooden home. She sat down expectantly at the edge of the table, clutching her Firebolt tightly in her hand. 

In the corner of the hut was a hippogriff that had to be Buckbeak. It looked at Rosalind with large, yellow, eyes as it chomped on a treat that was oozing blood all over the floor. 

“That there is our little felon,” Hagrid boomed affectionately, opening a box and tossing a lump of fur onto the table next to Rosalind. “Go on, give ‘im a Christmas treat.”

“Wh-how?” Rosalind looked over at Hagrid, slowly standing up from the table and grabbing the dead animal. 

“Go on up to him,” Hagrid beckoned Rosalind closer to the animal, whose yellow eyes followed her curiously. “Right, now stop, and bow.”

Rosalind stopped where she stood, bowing deeply, afraid to look at the creature. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the hippogriff blink slowly as it look from Rosalind to the food in her hands, and dip his head in return.

“Atta boy!” Hagrid boomed, leaning down and petting the hippogriff on his head. “Go on and feed ‘im now, ‘e deserves a treat.”

Rosalind nervously tossed Buckbeak the animal she had been holding, watching in amazement as the Hippogriff caught the food in midair and swallowed it whole. Standing up, it took a step towards Rosalind. Frozen with fear, Rosalind didn’t move as the creature bumped his head against her hand, a chattering sound coming from its throat.

“Oye, settle down ye greedy animal.” Hagrid toss another morsel back into the corner Buckbeak had been lying in, eyes glistening sadly as the hippogriff gave a small screech and dove after the meal.

“He doesn’t seem all that dangerous,” Rosalind said as she took a wary step back, her legs bumping into the table. “Just a bit… intimidating?”

Hagrid gave a long sigh, picking up a small bag from the counter. “Intimidatin’? He’s a softy, that one.”

Rosalind watched as Hagrid wiped his nose self consciously, at a loss for words.

“Here ye are,” Hagrid handed the bag to Rosalind. “If ye’ need anythin’ else, ye go on and let me know. Chances are I can getya what ye’ need faster, and ye’ll have more time to work the his case, you will.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Rosalind said quietly, taking a step back towards the door. “I promise we’re doing everything we can.”

“I know ye’ are.”

Throughout the next few weeks, life continued as normal, whatever that meant. Rosalind and Stygian were keeping all of the final potion ingredients at their uncle’s hideout. Stygian had acquired the teaspoons of dew and the crystal vials, and they were patiently waiting for the upcoming full moon. Sirius had been giving them all sorts of different enchantments and charms for them to cast, swearing that they would guarantee a clear moon for them to finish the potion under, and begin the next phase of the Animagus process. 

Students returned to the school as the next term started, and Gryffindor tower began to come back to life. Harry and Rosalind’s Firebolt’s were a source of fresh gossip amongst the older students, many of who didn’t approve of a student as young and unskilled as Rosalind receiving such an impressive broom. It was almost a relief to have the glares she got to be those of envy, rather than the suspicious looks she’d been dealing with all year. 

Harry and Ron had been ignoring and avoiding Hermione, who in turn had been avoiding them. She had told Professor McGonagall about the mysterious Firebolt, and their head of house had had the broom taken away to be stripped and searched. Rosalind had offered Harry her own broom to practice on until he got his own back, but he refused. He said that Professor McGonagall might never give his own back if she saw that he had found a replacement.

“Imagine the look on Malfoy's face when he sees we’ve got Firebolts,” he said with a wild grin at Rosalind. “I can just hear him know, complaining about how we shouldn’t be allowed to have such an unfair advantage on our team.”

“The broom doesn’t make the player,” Ron chirped in wisely.

“Yeah,” Rosalind chortled, grinning at Harry. “Maybe Draco should consider adding an extra arm to his Nimbus, then he might be able to catch the snitch.”

Ginny, Colin, and Estelle had all insisted on trying out her Firebolt on their own. Rosalind was more then willing to let them, grateful for the opportunity to get away from the gossiping older students in Gryffindor Tower. Her friends skills on the broom were quite varied, and made for an amusing time for the lot of them. Colin promptly fell off the broom, daunted by its speed. Estelle, though she managed to stay on, didn’t trust the broom enough to fly higher than the lower stands of the Quidditch pitch. Ginny, on the other hand, was a ginger bullet. She tore through the air on the Firebolt, her whoops of laughter echoing around the pirch as they watched in amazement.

“That was brilliant!” Rosalind gasped as Ginny landed next to her, grinning as she handed back the broom.

“Yeah, brilliant,” Colin muttered jealousy, self consciously rubbing his sore rear.

“Where did you learn to fly like that?” Estelle laughed as she threw her arm around Ginny.

Ginny grinned deviously, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve been stealing my brothers’ brooms from the broom shed for years now. Dumb blokes don’t even realize it.”

“Men are dumb,” Rosalind laughed as the girls began to head up to the castle.

“Yeah,” Colin ran after them, red in the face. “Men are the worse!”

The night of the full moon, Rosalind and Stygian snuck out of their common rooms before curfew, hiding amongst the giant suits of armor that flanked the door to the entrance hall until the teachers patrolling the hallways had passed by them. The pair snuck out of the castle, flying to the whomping willow to avoid leaving any footprints in the slowly melting snow. Stygian levitated a lump of ice over to the knot in the roots, immobilizing the tree, and the two of them dropped down into the tunnel and made their way over to their Uncles shack.

“Uncle Sirius!” Rosalind yelled as they climbed up into the shack. “It’s us, your niece and nephew!”

“I know who you are!” Sirius’s yell came from down the hall. “You don’t have to yell that every time you come by!”

“Yes, I do,” Rosalind scoffed, walking into the warm kitchen. A fire was crackling in the hearth, by which Sirius was perched with a mug of tea. 

“It’s the full moon,” Stygian said with a grin, going over to the cupboard furthest from the stove, where they had stashed their supplies in a brown box, while Rosalind tossed Sirius a knapsack full of food. 

“A bottle of pumpkin juice?” Sirius looked at Rosalind, impressed, as he pulled it out of the bag. “I’m supposed to be an escaped convict. You both have me out here eating like a king!”

“More like a student,” Rosalind joked as her uncle uncorked the bottle and took a deep sniff, a grin breaking out across his tired face.

“Are you two coming?” Stygian eagerly grabbed hold of Rosalind's arm and dragged her towards the door. 

Standing up with a sigh, Sirius turned on his heel and transformed into a large, black, dog. It gave an excited bark and charged past the siblings, pawing at the trapdoor to the tunnel. 

Giggling, Rosalind opened up the door and followed Sirius back down into the tunnel, gripping her Firebolt in her hand. The trio ran through the darkness of the now familiar tunnels, the only sound escaping them was the heavy breathing of the out of shape Stygian, and the steady panting of Snuffles. 

Breaking out into the cold winter air, the trio dove away from the whomping willow and ran into the woods. Though it was too dark to see everything in front of them clearly, Rosalind and Stygian didn’t light their wands, out of fear of drawing any unwanted attention from the patrolling teachers, or worse, dementors. Instead they trailed after the moving black mound in front of them, until finally they reached an open clearing at the edge of a lake.

Gasping for breath, Rosalind and Stygian looked up at the wisps of clouds threatening to cover the moon. Exchanging a glance, the two of them raised their wands into the air.

“Metorioliojinx Aeris!”

And traces of clouds in the sky vanished, and Rosalind and Stygian high fived as Sirius transformed back into himself, glancing around him warily.

“This is incredibly dangerous,” he said hesitantly as Stygian put down the large box containing the ingredients. 

“Life is dangerous,” Stygian said bluntly, opening up the lid. 

“Besides,” Rosalind raised an eyebrow at her uncle, “this was your idea.”

Sirius let out a sigh and shrugged, coming over to the box. “Alright then. Each of you take a crystal vial. Make sure you’re the only one to touch your vial.”

Rosalind and Stygian exchanged excited glances before reaching into the box, each removing a single vial.

“Now,” Sirius took them by the arm and led them over to the lakeside. “Find a spot where the moonlight shines on you. Feel it’s pure rays wash over the crystal, and spit the mandrake leaf out into it.”

Exchanging bemused glances, Rosalind and Stygian took a few steps apart from each other and looked up at the moon. Rosalind found herself getting drawn to a flat rock, and stood precariously on top of it. Leaning her head back, she used her tongue to position the soaked mandrake leaf inside her mouth. Realing forward, she spat the leaf out into the vial, giving a shiver of disgust as it slowly slid down the side of the crystal, leaving a trail of green sludge.

“What next?” She stage whispered to Stygian, who was watching his own mandrake leaf with fascination. 

“Huh?” Stygian looked up at her, confused for a moment, then shook his head. “Right, Right! Hair!”

The two of them plucked off a strand of their hair, and placed them into their vials. Using their wands, they each carefully summoned over a teaspoon of dew, dripping the water droplets onto the odd combination of ingredients. 

“Do we add the teaspoon?” Rosalind asked Sirius, who laughed out loud,

“Do you want to start all over?” He asked in response, pulling out the bag of death’s-hawk moth chrysalis’s and bringing them over to her. “Here, this is the last thing you need.”

Rosalind rolled her eyes, but smiled, as she took a chrysalis from the bag and popped it into her vial. A silver sheen seemed to ripple over the crystal as the chrysalis made contact with the dew, and she watched it intently.

“Now what?” She looked at Stygian, who was walking back over to Sirius with his vial tightly wrapped in his hand.

“Now we wait for the next electrical storm?” Stygian pushed his glasses up his nose as he handed to vial to Sirius to put into the box. 

Sirius gave him a nod as he sealed both vials in the box, and the group began heading back to the Whomping Willow. “Right you are. If you managed to get this right, then at the next lightning storm the potion will turn blood red.”

“If we managed to get this right?” Stygian crossed his arms, offended. “Please, oh great Professor Sirius. Even you couldn’t brew a potion this fine.”

“Wow,” Sirius gave his head a shake as they began to head back to the whomping willow. “Sounds like you’re one to get into trouble for talking back to teachers.”

Rosalind gave a snort. “Stygian? Don’t let his cockiness now fool you. He couldn’t even hurt a fly-er-moth.”

Styg rolled his eyes at Rosalind, aiming a punch at her arm. She ducked down to avoid it, and Stygian’s fist made contact with the thick bark of a pine tree.

“Rosa,” Sirius grabbed her by the arm as they neared the cliff below the whomping willow. “I need to ask you something.”

“Alright,” Rosalind gave him a searching look, the moans of Stygian as he nursed his sore hand coming from behind them. “What’s this about?”

Sirius looked down at the ground. “I want to get into Gryffindor Tower. I need to get to Peter before he does anything to Harry.”

“I understand,” Rosalind sighed and scratched her head. “But I don’t see any way we could do it. The new portrait guard, Sir Cadogan-”

“That old geezer?”

“Yeah, we hate him too. He changes the password daily, sometimes even twice a day!”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows together. “There’s no way every student can remember all of those. Surely someone must have them all written down?”

Rosalind swallowed guiltily. Hermione had helped Neville make a password list a few nights ago, after finding out that it had been four nights since he’d slept in his own bed. “Well…”

“You could bring it to me!” Sirius grabbed her by the shoulders. “Rosalind, could you? This Saturday.”

“No way!” Stygian spoke up from where he had been listening a few feet away. “That’s the day of the first Quidditch game of the term; Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.”

“Do you think you could ask Crookshanks to bring it to you?” Rosalind looked at Sirius quickly, the idea forming in her mind. “If I could get the list to Crookshanks, he could bring it here!”

“Brilliant!” Stygian grinned at Rosalind. “Why not aid a wanted convict in breaking into the school?”

“This wanted convict is watching your Animagus Potions while you wait for a storm,” Sirius said threateningly. “Keep talking like that and some wartcap powder might accidentally slip into yours.”

Stygian gave a sheepish smile but didn’t say anything else as Rosalind gave Sirius a high five, and the trio dove down into the tunnel, and headed back towards the shack.

The next day, Rosalind awoke excitedly at sunrise, jumping out of bed and running down to the common room in her pajamas. She stood in one of the large windows, looking out across the ground of Hogwarts as she pointed her wand to her heart. 

“Amato Amino Animato Animagus.”

As soon as she uttered the spell, Rosalind fell onto her knees, heart beating rapidly as pain seared through her chest. It felt as if she had a second heart, beating just one beat after hers and throwing off the balance of her body.

“Rosalind?” Hermione’s voice from behind  her caused Rosalind to turn around, gasping with a small smile on her face.

“‘Mione! Fancy seeing you this early.”

Hermione gave her a worried look as Rosalind stood up, putting her and over her chest. “Rosa, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Rosalind shook her head. “Yeah. Just some heartburn.”

An hour or so later, Rosalind made her way down to breakfast with Colin and Ginny. As soon as she entered the Great Hall, her eyes sought out Stygian. He caught her eye and flashed her an excited grin and two thumbs up, and Rosalind smiled back at him.

“Rosa, are you excited for your lesson with Professor Lupin this evening?” Colin nudged her in the side as they sat down at their house table, saying a quick greeting to Estelle, who was already there. 

“Huh?” Rosalind gave him a confused look.

“Remember?” Ginny pressed, loading eggs onto her plate. “Professor Lupin gave Colin a note to give to you saying to meet him in his office tonight after dinner.”

“Oh, yeah!” Rosalind laughed, shaking her head. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired.”

“You’re so lucky,” Colin gushed as he buttered a slice of toast. “You’re in advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you’re also getting private lessons with the coolest teacher of the year!”

“More like the coolest Defense Against the Darks Arts teacher in the last decade!” Estelle chimed in from where she was sitting across the table.

“I’m not sure about that bit,” Ginny said with a small smile. “My older brothers got to study under Madame Rakepick. She’s a total badass.”

“You just like her because she’s ginger,” Colin laughed.

Ginny threw him a dirty look before throwing a spoonful of scrambled eggs in his face. “Just because we both have freckles doesn’t mean you get to comment on how I look.”

Estelle and Rosalind cheered as Colin sheepishly wiped the eggs from his face. The group finished their breakfast and quickly headed their separate ways.

Professor Lupin’s office was a warm haven from the frosty January air. Rosalind smiled at the professor as she came into the office after dinner, untangling herself from a thick Gryffindor scarf and placing it on the floor with her bookbag. 

“Good evening, Professor,” She chirped as she sat down across from him at his desk.

“Miss Black,” Professor Lupin greeted with with a small smile before looking down at his papers. “Are you ready to produce a patronus?”

“I think so,” Rosalind said eagerly, leaning across the desk. Are we going to practice with real dementors?”

“Considering they attempt to drain both your and your brothers soul whenever they come near you, I don’t think that would be wise,” Professor Remus gave Rosalind a bemused glance. “Unless you are really determined, then you are welcome to go to the castle boundary and find one yourself on your own time, so long as I am not held accountable.”

“Sounds like you had some experience breaking the school rules, Professor,” Rosalind teased.

Professor Lupin gave her a look she couldn’t quite place. “Not me, but my friends. I was the good boy, the prefect.”

“Really?” Rosalind leaned back casually. “I hadn’t heard that before. If you were prefect, weren’t you head boy then, too?”

“Not exactly,” Professor Lupin looked a bit uncomfortable as he rested his hands on the table. “I was always getting sick, so my good friend James took over for me during our seventh year.”

“Oh, yeah, Harry’s dad,” Rosalind shook her head with a smile. “Sorry, I should have remembered. He talks about it all the time.”

“Right,” Professor Lupin gave her a searching look. “Well, Miss Rosalind, let’s get started, shall we?”

Throughout the course of the next hour, Rosalind deafeningly yelled “Expecto Patronum!” Her wand wouldn’t manifest more than a silver vapor that floated through the air for a few seconds before fading away. She couldn’t think of a strong enough memory to maintain the spell. 

“I do believe that’s enough practise,” Professor Lupin huffed as the chiming of the clocktower echoed down the hall. 

“I’m never going to get this,” Rosalind seethed, throwing her wand across the room in anger. It bounced off the edge of the desk and released a spark that struck the locked handle of a cabinet in the corner of the room.

“Sorry, Professor,” Rosalind said glumly as she began to walk over to where her wand lay on the floor.

“Rosalind, wait-”

The creaking open of the cabinet caused both of them to look up worriedly. Rosalind held her breath as an elegant woman stepped out of the closet. Her black dress robes billowed across the ground below her as she surveyed the room, locking her green eyes with Rosalind. Her face was eerily familiar as she locked eyes with Rosalind, slowly raising her deathly pale arm to reveal a tattoo of a writhing snake emerging from a skull.

“You!” She hissed with an unearthly tone, darting down to grab hold of the wand on the floor. Rosalind stared, frozen with fear, as the lady pointed her wand right at her.

“No!” Professor Lupin leaped to his feet, pointing his wand at the woman. “Riddicu-”

His cry was cut short as the figure shot a stunning spell at him, leaving him frozen in place.

The lady turned to Rosalind and raised her wand. “Avada Ked-”

With a wild burst of energy, Rosalind leapt up and punched the woman in the face. A deadly shriek came from her as Rosalind took back her wand and smirked at the creature.

“Riddikulus!”

There was a popping sound, and the lady began to shrink in midair till she was nothing more than a moth hovering in midair. As she shrunk, Rosalind countered the stunning charm on Professor Lupin, and the two of them herded the creature back into the closet.

They sat back down by the desk, Rosalind bouncing up and down from the adrenaline rush.

“What-”

“It was me.” Rosalind stated bluntly, raising her eyebrow at the Professor. “I’m scared I’ll be just like… like the rest of my family.”

Professor Lupin gave a small nod, smiling in amazement. “Well, Miss Black. I do believe we can agree that this was more than enough excitement for one evening. I think you’re the only person I know who’s punched their boggart in the face.”

“Thank you, Professor Lupin,” Rosalind gave a sheepish smile as she stood up and wrapped her scarf around her neck, slinging her book bag over her shoulder. “Same time next Tuesday?”

“I’ll let you know,” Professor Lupin gave Rosalind a curious look as she backed away towards the door. “And, Miss Black, If you ever want to learn more about the… diversity of your family, you’re more than welcome to stop by.”


	11. Thicker Then Water

Friday evening, at dinner, Rosalind sheepishly levitated Neville’s password list away from where it was sticking out of his pocket, and into her awaiting hand. Crookshanks, who had been sitting in Hermione’s lap, followed the paper through half closed eyes and gave Rosalind a knowing look. He quickly darted off of her lap, keeping under the table to avoid being noticed as he snatched the paper form Rosalind’s hand, and dashed out of the great hall.

Rosalind snuck an extra flagon of pumpkin juice upstairs to the common room, sipping on the warm drink in celebration of her success in aiding a convict next to a work ridden Hermione, who had her books and papers scattered across an armchair and several stools. 

“This seems like an excessive amount of work,” Rosalind raised her eyebrows at the third year. “Hermione, how many classes are you taking?”

“As many as I can,” Hermione said bluntly, scribbling furiously on her essay on muggles and electricity. “It’s all fascinating, you know. It’s hard to choose just one!”

“Even divination?” Rosalind laughed as she looked at the untouched dream journal. Whereas Lavender and Parvati’s were bend from overuse, Hermione barely seemed to use hers at all.

“Load of rubbish,” Hermione mumbled under her breath, shooting a glare at the journal as a familiar figure walked over to them, smiling widely.

Rosalind raised her eyebrow at Harry as he pointedly approached Hermione, and he gave her a tiny nod. She quickly pretended to be enamoured in the Potions essay she had been working on.

‘Can I sit down, then?’ Harry asked Hermione. 

‘I suppose so,’said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair. 

He looked around at the cluttered tables. ‘How are you getting through all this stuff?’

‘Oh, well – you know – working hard,’ said Hermione. 

Rosalind risked a glance upwards; Hermione was frowning down at her Rune translations as Harry looked through all the different piles around her.

“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?’ Harry asked, watching her rummage through her stacks of books and scrolls. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Rosalind smiled at Harry.

“I couldn’t do that!” said Hermione, looking scandalised. 

“Arithmancy looks terrible,” said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart. 

“Oh, no, it’s wonderful!” said Hermione earnestly. “It’s my favourite subject! It’s –” 

At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. Rosalind exchanged a worried glance with Ginny, who was sitting by the firepit with Colin, as the whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. There came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder – and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet. 

“Look!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione’s table. “Look!” 

He shook the sheets in their faces.

Rosalind batted at the sheets as they came dangerously close to spilling her inkwell. “Ron, what –?” 

“Scabbers! Look, Scabbers!” Ron yelled, pointing to several spots of red on the bedsheet. “Blood! He’s gone! And you know what was on the floor?!”

‘N-no,’ said Hermione, her voice trembling.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione’s Rune translation. Rosalind leaned forward to take a look, a pit opening up in her stomach. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

Hermione stared, aghast, as Ron turned and ran back up to the bedroom, quickly followed by Seamus and Neville.

“He’s gone?” Rosalind whispered, her mind racing. It couldn’t have been Crookshanks, she knew that Crookshanks was helping Sirius prove his innocence. There was no way he would have killed Scabbers. The only possible answer was that Pettigrew knew what was coming for him, and had once again faked his own death.

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship. Each was so angry with the other that nobody couldn’t see how they’d ever make it up. 

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks’s attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn’t bothered to keep a close enough watch on him and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys’ beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron’s head in the Magical Menagerie. Ginny confided in her dorm mates that she was relieved to be rid of ‘that old rat’, but to Ron’s face she pretended to be supportive. Harry was trying to be there for both of his friends, but his obvious belief of Ron’s story was easy to read, and Hermione chased him away with some sharp words.

The day of the match, at a loud and excited breakfast, Harry arrived in the Great Hall with an escort of Gryffindor boys that resembled an honor guard. He smiled at Rosalind and took a seat next to her, carefully placing his Firebolt on the table at the urging of Oliver Wood. Some people cast suspicious looks at Rosalind as The Boy Who Lived made himself comfortable next to the girl whose uncle had killed his parents, but Harry seemed to take no notice as he poured himself a cup of pumpkin juice.

“Big game, eh Harry?” Colin called around Rosalind with a grin.

Ginny gave Colin a smirk from where she was sitting across from them, by an over excited Ron. 

People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy’s Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt. 

“Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!” said Percy heartily, as she examined the Firebolt closely. 

“Penelope and I have got a bet on,” he told the Gryffindors. “Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!” 

Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry and went back to her table. 

“Harry – make sure you win,” said Percy, in an urgent whisper. “I haven’t got ten Galleons. Yes, I’m coming, Penny!” 

“Who would have thought there’d be a day we’d see Percy betting?” Rosalind mused out loud, looking over at Ginny.

“Who would how thought there’d be a day we say Percy with a girlfriend?” Ginny said with a smirk.

Harry and Rosalind laughed and began loading their plates with breakfast food.

“Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?” said an all too familiar voice. Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him. 

“Yeah, reckon so,” said Harry casually. 

“Got plenty of special features, hasn’t it?” said Draco, eyes glittering. “Shame it doesn’t come with a parachute – in case you get too near a Dementor.”

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. 

“Pity you can’t attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy,” said Harry with a sly look over at Rosalind. “Then it could catch the Snitch for you.” 

The Gryffindor team burst into applause and cheers, and Rosalind gave Harry a good natured shove with her elbow, laughing as he shoved her back. 

Estelle and Colin managed to drag Rosalind away from breakfast a bit after eleven, intent on getting ready for the big game. Colin and Estelle each locked onto one of Rosalind's arms, giggling as they made their way towards the grand staircase. 

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Harry!” Colin demanded as they drew near Sir Cadogan.

“Nothing!” Rosalind laughed for the thirteenth time. “We’re just classmates!”

“Well,” Estelle cocked her eyebrow at Rosalind. “Whatever class you two are taking, must need some intense one on one tutoring.”

Colin and Rosalind shrieked as Estelle smugly opened the portrait hole and led the three of them into the bustling common room to get ready for the game.

By a quarter to eleven they were out in the stands. Estelle and Rosalind were wearing their Gryffindor sweaters, while Colin had gone ahead and painted his entire face in red and gold face paint. It was a clear, cool day, and a light breeze was blowing back the hair of the restless crowd in the stands. Everyone gathered was so excited that for the duration of the game, they seemed to forget to hate on Rosalind.

Ginny, who had met them at the pitch, was teaching Estelle how to catch popcorn in her mouth when a tumultuous roar came from the stands. Out on opposite sides of the field, two teams had walked out of their respective changing rooms. The blue clad team reached the center of the field first, and waited by Madame Hooch for the red team, the Gryffindor team, to meet up with them. The crowd quieted down a little as the two team captains shook hands, but broke into screams and shouts again at the sound of Madame Hooch’s whistle.

Ginny grabbed Rosalind by the arm excitedly, leaning forward as the booming voice of her older twin brothers friend, Lee Jordan, echoed over the noise over the crows.

“They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship –“

“Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” interrupted Professor McGonagall’s voice. 

“Right you are, Professor – just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and –“ 

“Jordan!”

“OK, OK, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal …”

Colin leaned in front of Rosalind, blocking her view as he followed Harry as the Gryffindor Seeker flew in the opposite direction of Katie Bell, tailed eagerly by the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang.

“They must’ve seen the snitch!” Colin yelled, bouncing in his seat as more people turned to follow Harry and Cho as they streaked to the opposite side of the field, Harry slowly pulling ahead of Cho as the Gryffindors in the stands began to excitedly call out his name-

“No!” Rosalind stood up, shouting and booing along with the rest of the Gryffindors as a Ravenclaw beater shot a bludger at the Gryffindor seeker, and he was forced to swerve away from the snitch to avoid being knocked off his broom.

“Foul!” Colin screeched, jumping up and down in the stands until Ginny grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him back down into his seat.

“It was a legal move, you flobby-wanded-”

Ginny’s insult was overpowered by the mixed yells of encouragement and shouts of disappointment from the crowd as Ravenclaw scored a third goal, putting them fifty points behind Gryffindor.

“When did they score the other two?!” Rosalind yelled to Ginny, arms crossed angrily.

“While you were busy ogling at Colin’s boyfriend!” Ginny yelled back with a good natured shove. “There’s more players out on the field besides Harry!”

Rosalind gave an angry scoff, her retort cut off as movement on the side of the pitch caught her eye. Rising steadily into the air, were the hooded silhouettes of four dementors.

Noticing how Rosalind had frozen in place,  Estelle turned her head in the direction Rosalind was looking, quickly grabbing her by the arm. 

“Rosa, we can-”

“I don’t want to leave!” Rosalind objected, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the creatures, anticipating the feeling of dread that would soon flow over her, the cold that would drain her energy-

“Look!” Colins screech brought Rosalind back to the game. 

Shifting her eyes a little away from the dementors, Rosalind caught sight of Harry, a red blur as he dove towards the dementors, unleashing a stream of silver at the dementors, and they fell from the air and behind the quidditch pitch. 

A moment later he flew up into the air, triumphantly holding the golden snitch above his head. 

The stands exploded with cheers. Colin grabbed hold of Ginny, who in turn grabbed Rosalind and Estelle, and the three girls were pulled out down the stairs alongside the rest of the Gryffindor supporters. By the time the Gryffindor team landed in the field, the cheering crowd was waiting, jumping up and down excitedly as they chanted the names of various team members. 

Rosalind held on tight to Ginny in the crowd as she lost Estelle, following the ginger to her brothers Fred and George, both beaters.

“Well played!” Ginny laughed as George picked her up and spun her around excitedly.

Fred noticed Rosalind laughing at Ginny, and picked her up by the waist, spinning her around a few times before placing her back down and giving her a peck on the cheek.

“Watch yourself!” Rosalind laughed, red in the face as Ginny gave Fred a punch on the arm.

“Don’t you get enough attention from Angelina?” Ginny teased as her brother turned a light shade of pink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said haughtily, sticking his nose in the air.

Rosalind, Ginny, and George exchanged looks and laughed as Fred turned to high five a red faced Lee Jordan.

“Go ahead and head back to the castle,” George said to Ginny as the crowd around them began to disperse. “Fred and I’ll be up soon with treats to celebrate!”

At that moment, an out of breath Estelle ran up to Rosalind and grabbed her by the arm. “Rosa, you need to come see this!”

Exchanging a shocked look with Ginny, Rosalind allowed herself to be dragged towards the side of the Quidditch stands. Estelle stopped and put a finger to her lips, motioning for them to peer around the edge.

Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. 

Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall. 

“An unworthy trick!” she was shouting. “A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!”

Rosalind jumped as a hand was placed on her shoulder. She turned on her heels to find herself face to face with Professor Dumbledore.

“Headmaster!” Rosalind gulped, casting a desperate look back to a guilty looking Estelle and Ginny.

“Miss Black.” 

To her surprise, Professor Dumbledore was looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “I do hope you enjoy your teams afterparty, far from here, in the Gryffindor Common room.”

Rosalind smiled slyly, nodding as Professor Dumbledore gave her a wink before turning the corner and approaching the tangled Slytherins.

Estelle and Rosalind made eye contact, and each burst out laughing as they began to head off the Quidditch Pitch.

“You’re lucky he likes you!” Estelle giggled, bumping Rosalind in the side. 

“Rosa,” Ginny looked over at her worriedly. “Weren’t those your brother’s friends?”

“Yeah,” Rosalind shrugged. “What of it?”

“Well, why wasn’t he with them?”

Rosalind gave a snort of laughter. “Please. Stygian? Playing a prank this poorly thought out? Hogs will fly before he becomes stupid enough to take a risk like that.”

Back in the common room, the celebrating of the quidditch victory lasted all day, and well into the night. Fred and George had appeared in the common room after several hours of partying, loaded with pumpkin fizz, several bags of honeydukes sweets, and-

“Butterbeer!” Rosalind lunged for her fourth bottle, popping off the cap on the edge of the table they were on and taking a large swig. “Merlin, I can’t wait to be able to go to Hogsmeade. I’ll be drinking this by the bucket!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ginny chuckled as Lee Jordan, a friend of the Weasley twins, laughed at Rosalind's reaction to the sugary drink.

“If you think it’s good plain,” Lee teased, taking a swig of his butterbeer and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “then maybe I should take you somewhere to try it spiked with Firewhiskey.” 

“Lee Jordan!” Ginny punched him in the arm, eyes blazing. “If you think you can hit on my friend so blatantly, then you’ve got a big storm coming!”

“Wait, what?” Rosalind blinked at Ginny as Lee laughed awkwardly and walked away, face coloring. “Ginny, your brothers’ friend is gross.”

“Nah,” Ginny smirked, winking as she took another swing of her pumpkin fizz. “Just desperate.”

A loud cheer from behind them drew their attention, and the two turned to watch as Fred and George climbed up onto a table. Together, the twins hoisted up a large, bulging knapsack, and reached inside, tossing out handfuls of peppermint toads out to the throng of Gryffindors around them. 

As they ran out of candy, the twins came over to where Ginny and Rosalind were lounging in armchairs, Fred nudging Rosalind in the side. 

“Geez, Black. Did you drink all these Butterbeers yourself?” 

“Actually, I did,” Rosalind raised an eyebrow at Fred, maintaining eye contact as she reached forward to grab another butterbeer. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s a lot of bottles,” George laughed, Ginny giggling next to him.

Fred leaned in close to Rosalind, his face mere inches from her own. His breath smelled strongly of firewhiskey and butterbeer. “Bet you can’t juggle them.”

“What, just four bottles?” Rosalind scoffed, standing up on the armchair and picking up the four empty bottles at her feet. “Watch me, Weasley.”

Ginny began to clap and cheer as Rosalind tossed the first, second, and third bottle up into the air, building up a rhythm as more people came to watch.

“Wow, Rosa!” Came an impressed shout from Colin as he sat down on the arm of Ginny’s chair. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“No way!” Estelle gawked as Rosalind added the fourth bottle into the cycle, grinning maliciously down at Fred.

“How about that, Weasley?”

“Please,” Fred scoffed, summoning over four empty bottles and jumping up onto the sofa across from Rosalind. “Watch me, Black.”

Fred maintained eye contact with Rosalind as he started off with juggling three bottle, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. 

“Well, that’s not right.” George stood up from where he was sitting on the other side of Ginny, pushing his sister out of her seat and climbing up onto it. 

“Troll,” Ginny grumbled from the floor as George grabbed four bottles off the floor and began tossing them through the air.

“Where did you learn to do that?!” Fred yelled to his brother, eyebrow raised.

“Anything you can do, brother,” George said with a smirk and a wink at Fred, “I can do better.”

There was now a very large crowd of people gathered around the trio of jugglers. Estelle, Ginny, and Colin had rallied a lot of the first, second, and even some third years to cheer on Rosalind, while the rest of the older students were split between Fred and George. Harry and Ron were standing between Fred and George, seemingly cheering on the twins, but Rosalind could see Harry’s eyes drifting over to her.

“How long are we going to do this for?” Huffed George, sweat dripping down the side of his temples.

“Until someone wins!” Fred and Rosalind yelled at the same time, glaring at each other.

“Toss me another bottle!” Rosalind called down to Ginny.

Nodding quickly, Ginny grabbed another empty bottle off the group and tossed it up to Rosalind. She caught it quickly, seamlessly adding it into her cycle with a satisfied smirk at Fred.

Snorting, Fred looked over to Angelina, who was standing on his left. “Bottle me!”

“And me?” George added, not as convinced as his twin.

Angelina laughed, picking up two bottles and handing one to her friend Alicia Spinnet. Together, the two of them tossed the bottles up to the gingers. And, in harmonious unison, both of the Weasley twins leaned forward to grab the bottles, lost their ballance on the cushions of the armchairs, and stumbled towards the ground. Only a quick spell from Angelina save the glass bottled from shattering as the tumbled towards the ground after their jugglers.

“Rosa, you win!” Ginny cheered, jumping up from the ground as the crowd of Gryffindors began to cheer.

Rosalind caught each of the bottles, holding them in her arms as she bowed deeply to the applauding crowds. Fred and George stood up from the floor, high fiving each other before going over to Rosalind and lifting her up in the air.

“Victory lap!” Rosalind laughed as they carried her around the common room, trailed by cheering Gryffindors. For the first time since the school year had started, it seemed like people were finally looking at her for who she was, and Rosalind couldn’t have been happier.

The Gryffindor party only ended when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair-net at one in the morning, to insist that they all went to bed. Ginny, Rosalind, and Estelle, all incredibly sugared up from the butterbeer and sweets, opted to sit outside the door to their bedroom in their pajamas as they finished the last few bottles of butterbeer, and chewed on some licorice wands. 

“How’s everyone been?” Rosalind said with an enormous yawn as the distant chimes of a clock chimed twice. The overwhelming amount of sugar she had consumed and the following juggling match had left her very warm, and she was sitting in her pajama shorts and a tank top rather than her usual thick nightgown.

“Damn fine,” Estelle chirped with a grin. “It’s been years since I stayed up till two in the morning.”

“We’re going to need to fix that,” Ginny teased, giving Estelle a nudge in the arm with her feet. 

The three of them jumped as a loud scream echoed up the stairwell, ringing throughout the dormitories. 

“What in the name of-”

Ginny was cut off as doors to the girls dorms began to open up, tired whispers echoing down the stone stairwell.

“Who shouted?”

“What’s going on?”

“What are you doing?”

“What’s all the noise?”

Gripping her wand tightly in one hand, and threateningly holding an empty bottle of butterbeer in her other, Rosalind led the three of them down the steps, peering into the deserted common room. A dim fire was still going in the fireplace, lighting the silhouettes of Harry, Ron, and several other Gryffindor boys in the center of the room.

“Um, Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!” Ginny called out as they made their way over to the boys.

“What’s going on?” Rosalind asked Harry, who was worriedly trying to reel in a panicked Ron.

“He says he-”

“Excellent, are we carrying on?” said Fred brightly as he strolled into the common room, bottle in hand. 

“Everyone back upstairs!” said Percy, hurrying downstairs and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pyjamas as he spoke. 

“Perce – Sirius Black!” said Ron faintly. “In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!” 

The common room went very still. Rosalind stumbled to the side, gripping onto whatever person was closest to her for support. She had forgotten about their plan. She didn’t tell Sirius about the missing Scabbers, and now he could get caught and prosecuted.

“Rosa, please loosen your grip on my arm,” Harry whispered in her ear as she tried to control her breathing.

“I, I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry gave her a worried look, opening his mouth but getting distracted by a furious Percy.

“Nonsense!” said Percy, looking startled. “You had too much to eat, Ron – had a nightmare –” 

“I’m telling you –” 

“Now, really, enough’s enough!” Professor McGonagall stormed into the common room slamming the portrait behind her as she stared furiously around. “I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!”

“I certainly didn’t authorise this, Professor!” said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. “I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare –” 

“It wasn’t a nightmare!” Ron yelled so loudly he seemed to double in size. “Professor, I woke up, and Sirius Black was standing over me, holding a knife!” 

Professor McGonagall stared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have got through the portrait hole?”

“Why don’t you ask Rosalind?” Came a scoff from somewhere behind her, and she clenched her hands into fists.

“Ask him!” said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan’s picture. “Ask him if he saw –” 

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. 

Rosalind, Harry, Ron, and the rest of Gryffindor house ran after her, pausing at the entrance to listen. None of them were brave enough to step outside the common rooms walls.

“Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?” Professor McGonagall asked in a testy voice.

“Certainly good lady!” cried Sir Cadogan. 

There was a stunned silence, and from somewhere behind her Rosalind heard Ginny mumble “You fat oaf.” 

“You – you did?” said Professor McGonagall. “But – but the password!” 

“He had ’em!” said Sir Cadogan proudly. “Had the whole week’s, my lady! Read ’em off a little piece of paper!” 

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. Her face was white as chalk as her icy gaze scanned the gathered Gryffindors. Rosalind couldn’t stop from shaking as her Professors eyes glazed over her.

“Which person,” she said, her voice shaking, “which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week’s passwords and left them lying around?” 

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air as Rosalind buried her head in her hands, and sat down on the common room floor.

“Rosa, you alright?” Came the concerned voice of Ginny.

Rosalind was vaguely aware of her friend kneeling down next to her, the distant voice of Professor McGonagall demanding the Gryffindors to head into the common room echoing in her ears.

“Ginny, help Ron.”

“Are you sure, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’ll take her over to the fire.”

Rosalind lowered her hands and allowed Harry to help her over to the fireplace, refusing to look up at her friend. They sat down on the ledge of the fireplace, backs to the recently stoked fire.

“You want to talk about it?” Harry asked, nudging Rosalind in the side.

“I…” Rosalind chewed on her lip, looking down with a sigh. “I hate this.”

“I understand,” Harry said with a snort. “Believe me, I understand.”

Rosalind looked up at him, her red eyes narrowed into a glare. “Do you?”

“W-what? Rosa, I-”

“Tell me, Harry Potter,” Rosalind spat. “Do you think that everyone would be less willing to blame him, less quick to judge him, less him to, say, hate him, if he weren’t a Black?”

“Hang on,” Harry frowned, inching away from Rosalind. “If Hermione told you about what we heard at the Three Broomsticks, then you’ll know that Sirius Black, my own Godfather, turned my parents in to You-Know-Who!”

“Says who?!” Rosalind hissed, standing up.

“Said Peter Pettigrew!” Harry yelled, standing up to look down on Rosalind. “Right before Sirius Black blew him to pieces!”

“He was set up!” Rosalind yelled, clenching her fists. “There was no proof-”

“All they found was Pettigrew’s finger!” Harry stomped his foot angrily. “It’s nice that you want to believe that your uncle wasn’t as bad as everyone says he is, but maybe you need to accept that he’s just like—” 

“Like what?” Rosalind seethed, tearing up from anger. “Like any other Death Eater? Like the rest of my family?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly. His eyes seemed to get unfocused as he realized that all he had done was prove Rosalind’s point.

Sighing, Rosalind crossed her arms and looked at the ground. “What if it were me people were saying all those awful things about? How would you feel then?”

Harry didn’t respond. Looking up, Rosalind gave a shiver as she realized the common room had stopped to look at them. Whispers broke out as Rosalind’s words dawned on the gathered Gryffindors, and she could see in their eyes that even after the events of that night they were looking at her as a Black, rather than Rosalind. 

“—should have known—”

“—just like—”

“—run in the family—”

“—traitor—”

Looking at Harry, she could see that he didn’t know what to say to her.

“Your silence tells me you’re just like the others,” Rosalind whispered as she took a step back. “I thought you were different.”

Harry’s eyes hardened as he looked away from Rosalind. “So did I.”

Silent tears streaming down her face, Rosalind bowed her head and walked to the portrait hole.

“Rosa, hey,” Colin tried to grab her arm as she brushed past him. “You shouldn’t leave until Professor McGonagall comes back.”

“That’s too bad,” Rosalind hissed through her tears, weaving away from Colin and bursting through the portrait hole.

“Lassie, are they upset with me in there?” Sir Cadogan's shout followed her down the hall as she broke into a run, bare feet gripping the cold stone floor.

Jumping down the stone corridor, Rosalind ran down to the west wing and out the front entrance, streaking towards the whomping willow. Picking up a rock, she chucked it towards the knot in the trunk, sliding to a half in front of tree as she waited for the tunnel to open up. 

As the seconds dragged by, the whomping willow slowly began to creak above Rosalind. Looking up at the rustling branches, Rosalind’s blood went cold as she realized she hadn’t hit the right spot on the tree.

“Rosa!” 

Rosalind turned towards the sound of Ginny’s voice as the tree above her slammed into her body with a dull thud and sent her flying back towards the castle. All the breath was driven out of her body as she landed on a shrub, the world spinning around her. The last things she remembered seeing were the blurry forms of Ginny and Colin leaning over her, and then the world went black.

When Rosalind awoke she was lying in the infirmary, tucked in to the bed by the window. Her head was pounding, and her wand arm was in a thick cast and placed in a sling. 

“Hello?” Rosalind groaned, sitting up in the bed. Immediately, her head released a flash of pain in protest, and she put her working hand on her forehead, giving a hiss of pain.

“Miss Black?” Came the familiar voice of Madame Pomfrey, followed by urgent footsteps. Moments later the familiar face of the school nurse peered around the curtain separating Rosalind from the rest of the room, and she drew it back with a grin.

“Lovely to see your eyes again, dear,” Madame Pomfrey chirped as she summoned over a series of vials. With another flick of her wand, a series of wires wrapped around Rosalind's working arm, sending a pulse through her body that made her hair stand on end before rising up into the air and forming a series of numbers. Madame Pomfrey looked them over with a few nods and the wires tied themselves to the side of her apron.

“I must say,” she chirped, adjusting Rosalind's pillows. “I have seen far too much of you this year.”

“Sorry?” Rosalind winced in pain, leaning back against the pillow. “What happened, Madam Pomfrey?”

“Well, dear,” Madame Pomfrey pulled out a box of powder and sprinkled it into a green vial, swirling the liquid around as it turned blue. “I’m afraid that infernal tree broke your arm, three ribs, and gave you quite a crack in the head. While the ribs were a cinch to heal, you’ve got a bit of a cut on the back of your head. It’s taken me a bit of time to get it sealed up, but you should be good to go.”

Rosalind drew back as Madame Pomfrey handed her the vial, which now was now a sparkling light blue. Giving a sigh, she took the vial with her good hand and drank it in a quick swig, smiling with relief as her pounding headache subsided.

“Well, now that you’re awake,” Madame pomfrey chirped, summoning over another vial. “Here, drink this. It will take care of your arm. You’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning.”

“Madame Pomfrey,” Rosalind croaked out, grasping the new vial in her hand. “How long have I been here?”

“Well,” Madame looked out the window, where the early spring sun was weakly shining through a series of storm clouds. “It was very early sunday morning when they brought you in, and it’s midday Monday now. We kept you asleep and on heavy pain medication while we dealt with your head.”

“I missed a whole day of classes?” Rosalind cried out, throwing her one working hand in the air. 

“Now, dear,” Madame Pomfrey gave a roll of her eyes. “The days not over yet. And you’re not getting out of here anytime today, so sit tight. I’ll go get one of the house elves to bring you some lunch.”

“Wait!” Rosalind cried out, grabbing hold of the nurse as she began to walk away. “Did Stygian come to visit me?”

Madame Pomfrey turned to her with a bemused expression. “Of course he did, dear. At dawn and dusk yesterday, though I haven’t seen him today. Reckon he got distracted after last nights storm.”

“Storm?” Rosalind wailed, holding on tighter. “Was there, was there lightning?”

Madame Pomfrey looked at her, concerned, and put a gentle hand on top of hers. “Yes, dear. Is everything all right?”

Rosalind took her hand away from Madame Pomfrey’s arm, leaning back on her pillows. “No, Madame Pomfrey. Nothing is alright.”

“Well, it seems that you have visitors. Maybe they’ll be able to cheer you up.”

Rosalind looked over at the smiling faces of Ginny and Colin as they rounded the edge of the curtain and sat at the edge of her hospital bed.

“Hey, Rosa,” Ginny chirped, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “How you feeling?”

“Very sad,” Rosalind sighed, sinking into the bed. “Very angry. Full of self loathing.”

“Yeah,” Colin smiled, punching her in the leg. “That’s the sarcastic Rosa we all love.”

Ginny looked pointedly at Colin as Rosalind turned away from them and stared out the window. “Colin, I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean that sarcastically.”

Rosalind sighed and leaned the hospital bed back down, staring up at the ceiling. “Sorry, guys. How’s the school been since Saturday? Is Cadogan still the portrait keeper?”

“Of course not,” Ginny scoffed. “They restored the Fat Lady. She’s back, but-”

“There’s enormous security trolls in the hall!” Colin interrupted excitedly. “They do nothing but pace outside the portrait hole and compare the size of their clubs.”

Rosalind couldn’t help but smirk.

“Different clubs.” Ginny snapped, punching Rosalind in the leg. “Filch has gone crazy. He’s boarding up every single crack in the walls.”

“Estelle and I saw Flitwick teaching all the doors what Sirius Black looks like,” Colin added, swinging his legs back and forth. “He blew up one of those giant wanted posters of him for it.”

“It was terrifying,” Ginny said with a shiver.

“How’s, um, Neville?” Rosalind winced, almost too scared to hear the answer.

Ginny winced as she shared a pained look with Colin. “He’s… more or less been disgraced.”

“Disgraced?” Rosalind echoed, looking from Ginny to Colin. 

Colin shivered. “McGonagall was furious. He has to wait outside the common room every night for someone to let him in. He’s not allowed to know the passwords.”

“She also banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits,” Ginny sighed, sinking against the bed frame. “But that’s not the worst of it.”

“Oh?” Rosalind looked at them, not willing to ask.

“A howler.” They said in unison, staring at the floor.

“From his grandmother,” Colin groaned, putting his hand to his forehead.”It was awful. He managed to make it out of the great hall, but distance didn’t stop anyone from hearing her tell him he’s disgraced the family.”

“Oh no,” Rosalind moaned, picking up her pillow with her good hand and putting it over her face.

“Yeah,” Ginny’s voice came, muffled through the pillow. “Colin and I need to get to class, but we’ll try to stop by with Estelle after dinner.”

“Heal quickly!” Colin chirped as the weight at the end of Rosalind’s bed vanished with a squeak of mattress springs, and she was left alone in the hospital wing.

The day passed slowly. Rosalind napped, stared out the window, and drank the potions she was brought. When her friend visited after dinner, Estelle was kind enough to leave her her book bag, which was filled with the homework she hadn’t gotten to finish over the weekend. Unfortunately, she was too distracted by her own self deprecating thoughts to focus on it. Instead she fiddled with her quill, watching moths fly into the hospital wing through the open window as a dull, throbbing pain echoed from her slowly healing arm.

She unenthusiastically watched the moths hover closer and closer to the oil lamp by her bedside, landing on the glass and casting long shadows over the wall. One moth in particular flew closer to Rosalind, landing on the tip of her quill and twitching it’s curly antennas at her.

Rosalind sighed as she squinted at the moth, making note of the glasses like circles around its eyes. “You son of a banshee. You’re a terrible brother, you know that?”

The moth seemed to give an offended twitch of its antennae as it flew off of her quill, towards the floor. Rosalind leaned over the edge of the bed as the moth stretched and contorted until the grinning figure of her brother.

“Jealous?” Stygian smirked, standing up from the floor.

“Obviously,” Rosalind grumbled, looking away from Stygian as he sat down at the end of her bed. “And, you know, hating myself.”

“Aw, Rosa,” Stygian moved up the bed and pat her on the head. “Tell your big brother what’s going on.”

“How could you turn without me?” Rosalind hissed, her eyes growing hot as she glared at Stygian. “I thought we were in this together, Styg! Damnit, I’m the one who found Siri-”

Stygian silenced Rosalind, quickly putting his hand over her mouth with a worried expression on his face. “Rosa, hush up! Do you want the whole castle to know we’ve been regularly associating with a wanted criminal?”

Rosalind jerked her face away from her brother, glaring at the hospital curtain.

Stygian heaved a sigh. “Rosa, hey, I’m sorry. No one told me you were in the hospital wing. When the storm happened, I assumed you would meet me at the hut. When you didn’t show up I went ahead with it, because otherwise it would have been an entire three and a half months wasted.”

A tear slid down her cheek as Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut.

“Rosa,” Stygian flopped down on the bed, lying across Rosalind's legs and hanging his head over the other end of the mattress. “There’s more going on here than just my stupid moth transformation.”

“Yeah,” Rosalind sniffed, wiping her nose with her working hand. “Your moth is pretty stupid.”

“Shut up.”

Rosalind gave a long sigh and looked at her brother. “Stygian, what does Slytherin house think about this whole, Sirius Black thing?”

“Not much,” Stygian replied earnestly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “No one treats me any different… wait, Rosa, are people in Gryffindor treating you differently because of your last name?”

“They didn’t at first,” Rosalind sighed sadly. “But after all the pointed attacks on Gryffindor house, they have.”

“Thats low,” Stygian snorted, sitting up to look at Rosalind. “Hey, sis, if it ever becomes too much you can come spend some time in Slytherin house with my friends. Honest.”

“Thanks, Styg,” Rosalind smiled down at her brother. “I know I can count on you.”

“No problem,” Stygian grinned, giving her a wink as he stood up. “Besides, I’m sure Blaise would be more than willing to share his bed with you.”

“Go back to your room before curfew,” Rosalind scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Stygian gave her a wink before turning on his heel, shrinking down with a pop till he was nothing more than a inconspicuous moth. He circled Rosalind’s head twice with a few flaps of his wings, and flew out of the hospital wing and into the night.

Rosalind wasn’t released from the hospital wing until dinner time, Tuesday, with instructions to keep her arm in the sling until Thursday morning. With the help of Ginny, Estelle, Colin, and occasionally a work overloaded Hermione, she spent most of the rest of the week catching up on work for the classes she had missed. Ron and Harry had decided to entirely ignore the two girls, though Harry did try to talk to Hermione now and again, and Ron and Rosalind passed notes in class so that she didn’t have to talk to her table partner, Harry. Aside from Ginny, Estelle, Colin, and the rest of the Weasley family, Gryffindor house seemed to be avoiding Rosalind. So, she spent her spare time with Hermione, working on school work alongside her. 

“Oh, no,” Hermione’s voice brought Rosalind back from the Transfiguration essay she was pouring her soul into.

“What’s wrong?”

Hermione was, surprisingly enough, not looking at a book or scroll of parchment. Instead, gripped in her hand was a poorly written letter.

Hermione looked up from the writing, tears in her eyes. “It’s Hagrid. Buckbeak lost his appeal. They’re going to execute him at the end of exams week.”


	12. Family Tree

Estelle and Ginny gave Rosalind one more look, lingering by the portrait hole as the remaining few Gryffindors ran out, heading down to the Quidditch pitch.

“Are you sure you won’t come to the game, Rosa?” Estelle asked gently for the fifth time.

Rosalind sighed, shaking her head from where she was sitting in an armchair. “No, thanks. I don’t think anyone other than you guys want me there.”

“Don’t make us get your brother to make you go,” Ginny snapped, crossing her arms. “He’ll be there, it’s the Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch finale!”

Never, in anyone’s memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the easter holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their houses was at breaking-point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth-year and a Slytherin sixth-year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears. The precious Harry Potter had even had an escort assigned to him to keep him safe as he went from class to class. Oliver Wood had approached Rosalind about joining the protection squad, to much loud objection from the Gryffindor team, and Rosalind had sent him away with one of Ginny’s bat-bogey hex’s.

Rosalind sighed and closed the book that was sitting in her lap. “Fine, okay, I’m coming.”

Ginny and Estelle gave a triumphant high five, tailing Rosalind as she went upstairs to their bedroom. She tossed the book onto her bed, before unceremoniously changing into a black long sleeve shirt.

“No Gryffindor colors?” Estelle queried when Rosalind rejoined them on the staircase.

“Too hot for a scarf, and my sweater is dirty.”

Estelle and Ginny sighed, exchanging a glance before shrugging and leading the way down the stairs, and out onto the field. 

The stands were absolutely packed. Three-quarters of the crowd were wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them or brandishing banners with slogans such as ‘GO GRYFFINDOR!’ and ‘LIONS FOR THE CUP!’. Behind the Slytherin goalposts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile. 

“I’m going to sit with Stygian,” Rosalind yelled to her escorts over the roaring of the crowd.

“Don’t you want to sit here?!” Ginny yelled back, gesturing towards the spots an incredibly overexcited Colin had saved them by Hermione and Ron.

Giving a shake of her head, Rosalind walked away from the group in search of her brother. Ron and Hermione had somewhat made up from their disagreement over Scabbers not long after Harry and Rosalind had stopped talking. Hermione, who was incredibly overworked, still found time to study for exams alongside Rosalind and attempt to convince her that Gryffindor wasn’t treating her differently. Despite her good intentions, Rosalind couldn’t be convinced. She had all but cut off contact with the Gryffindors, aside from Hermione, Ginny, Estelle, and Colin. In Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had moved next to Hermione so she could avoid Harry. If he regretted losing contact with Rosalind, then he did a good job of hiding it.

“Black!”

A shout from above made Rosalind jerk her head up. Standing in the stands a few rows above her was Blaise Zabini. He was waving from his place in the stands alongside Pansy Parkinson, and in the row in front of them sat Stygian, Crabbe, and Goyle. Everyone except for Blaise was clad in green and silver. Crabbe and Goyle had painted their faces in alternating green and silver stripes, and Pansy looked borderline ill with her silver eyeshadow and green lips. She sneered at Rosalind as she approached the group, showing off the lipstick stains on her teeth.

“Zabini,” Rosalind grinned, walking up the stand to join him. “Miss me?”

“What’s a Gryffindor like you doing on this side of the pitch?” Blaise raised an eyebrow as he sat back down in his seat, resting his arms on his knees. 

“Her best,” Rosalind smiled sweetly at Blaise, leaning forward to flick the end of his nose with her finger.

Blaise snorted and drew his head back, giving Rosalind a frown that didn’t mask the amusement in his eyes.

“This seat taken?” Rosalind yelled in Stygians ear as she stepped over to him, gesturing towards a spot on the bench.

“Sit down!” Stygian grinned, pointing backwards at Crabbe and Goyle. “These turds saved a seat for Draco. They forgot he was on the team.”

Rosalind sat with a grin, opening her mouth to respond but getting cut off as a roar rose from the Gryffindor supporters. Turning her head, she watched as the Gryffindor team strode out into the pitch, clad in their shining red and gold robes.

“And here are the Gryffindors!” yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. “Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best side Hogwarts has seen in a good few years –” 

All around Rosalind, Slytherins jumped up and began booing the commentator, their objections quickly turning to cheers as the Slytherin team strode in from the opposite side of the pitch.

“And here come the Slytherin team, led by captain Flint. He’s made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size rather than skill –”

More booing and shouts of objection came from the stands as Slytherins made vulgar hand gestures up at the commentators box. Rosalind couldn’t help but give a laugh, her first in a while, as a sixth year stood up on the bench and mooned Lee Jordan.

She looked at Stygian, confused, and he gave a laugh that wasn’t audible over the cries from Crabbe and Goyle.

The sound of the whistle was lost to the crowd as fourteen brooms kicked off from the field and took off in the air. Rosalind watched, perched excitedly on the edge of the bench but keeping silent as the Gryffindor team took possession of the quaffle and dove around the Slytherin defenses, scoring a goal in the first minute of the game. The excited shouts from the Gryffindor supporting crowd quickly turned to shouts as the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, slammed into Angelina Johnson, nearly knocking her off her broom. Team Gryffindor reacted quickly as Fred Weasley slammed a bludger into the back of Flint’s head, sending it smashing it into his broom.

“Oof!” Stygian winced from next to Rosalind, looking over at her with a smirk. “Can’t say he didn’t deserve that.”

Rosalind gave a small smile, leaning back on the bench. 

“What are you doing so far away from your friends?” Stygian half-yelled as he turned his head to look at her.

“I need a break from the Gryffindors,” Rosalind sighed, risking a glance to where Colin was visibly jumping up and down on his seat. “Ever since Harry started ignoring me the trash talk seems to have gotten worse.”

“Trash talk?” Blaise leaned over to listen in to the conversation, eyes alight with interest. “Rosa, are those Gryffindors giving you a hard time?”

Stygian gave Blaise a curious look. “What’s it to you, Zabini?”

“And since when do you call me Rosa?” Rosalind leaned back until her head was resting on Blaise’s knees, an eyebrow raised curiously as she looked up at him.

Blaise looked from Stygian to Rosalind, his mouth was open but he didn’t seem to know what to say.

A sudden uproar in cheers from the Slytherins caused the three of them to jerk their attention back to the game. Flint had scored a goal, and was flying a victory lap around the pitch with his fist raised triumphantly. Up in the commentator box, Lee Jordan was swearing so badly that Professor McGonagall was trying to tug the microphone away from him. 

It was turning into the dirtiest match Rosalind had ever seen. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherin team were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he’d thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor. Katie scored. Fifty–ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred and George’s absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded. 

Madam Hooch was beside herself. 

“You do not attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle is within the scoring area!” she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. “Gryffindor penalty!” 

While Rosalind watched, amused, as the Slytherins shouted objections at Madame Hooch, Stygian grabbed her arm and pointed upwards. “Look there!”

Harry Potter was diving towards the ground, a red blur on his Firebolt. Rosalind squinted as she looked up at him, just barely making out his outstretched arm as he chased a golden flash

“Idiot!” Stygian jumped up for the first time that game, swearing as he glared at the sky. “Son of a-”

Draco, who had been tailing right behind Harry, had stretched out his arm and grabbed hold of the end of the Firebolt in a desperate attempt to slow him down.

“That was not the smartest decision,” Blaise conceded from behind them as Madame Hooch flew up, furiously blowing her whistle.

“Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I’ve never seen such tactics!” Madam Hooch was screeching as she separated the two seekers.

“Leave him alone!” Pansy cried out, slapping Blaise on the arm. “It shouldn’t be allowed to have a Firebolt in a school quidditch game! It’s an unfair advantage!”

Lee’s commentary drifted through the antsy crowd. “Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal-Montague scores,” Lee groaned. “Seventy– twenty to Gryffindor …” 

Rosalind sighed and looked over at Stygian. He raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her, meeting her eyes. 

“Little Sister, it’s not like you to be so unenthusiastic about a Quidditch game.”

“Like Gryffindors not going to win,” Rosalind scoffed, leaning back against the seat and against Blaise’s legs.

“Wow,” Blaise shook his head down at Rosalind. “We may surprise you, Black.”

“When acromantulas fly,” Rosalind snorted, looking up at the Slytherin. “I won’t take a lecture on house pride from you. I’ve never seen you wear any Slytherin gear besides the school tie.”

“I choose to dress professionally rather than strut around like these clowns.” Blaise gave Pansy a contemptuous glare, and she stuck her tongue out at him in response. 

Rosalind gave a snort of laughed, receiving a glare from Pansy and a smug grin from Blaise.

“He’s after the snitch!” Stygian shouted, bringing them all back to the game. 

Draco was diving after a streak of gold, the snitch evading his grasp as the streamed along the ground. Up in the air, on the other side of the field, Rosalind saw Harry turn and dive after Malfoy. The Firebolt chased after him, a blur that caught up to the Slytherin seeker in an unfair amount of time as red and green cloaks intercepted with the snitch.

A split second later Harry rose into the air, holding the golden ball above him with a crazed grin.

Rosalind sat in stunned silence with the rest of the Slytherins as the Gryffindors erupted into cheers, stampeding out into the pitch and raising the Quidditch team up onto their shoulders as they triumphantly passed around the Quidditch house cup.

“Well,” Blaise stood up with a sigh, watching as a devastated Pansy ran out to the humiliated Slytherin team, tailed by Crabbe and Goyle, “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”

Stygian gave a sigh and a sad nod, his eyes watching the field as Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle crowded around a shocked Draco. “Make that two.”

“Make that three,” came a chirp from a girl who had been sitting behind Blaise. She batted her warm brown eyes at Rosalind, smiling kindly. “You must be Stygian’s sister, I’m Astoria Greengrass.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rosalind looked at her curiously. “Aren’t we in the same year?”

Astoria gave a light laugh. “Yes, but you’re a year ahead of me so we don’t have any classes together, aside from flying.”

Stygian gave a groan and stood up at the mention of flying class, the one class he hadn’t managed to get a year ahead in. “Alright, let’s go.”

Rosalind hopped down the stands alongside Stygian, talking to Astoria as they headed up to the castle. For a Slytherin, she was incredibly friendly. In fact, she reminded Rosalind a lot of Ginny. Her easygoing attitude seemed to even put Blaise at ease, and he managed a few laughs alongside them as they pushed open the doors to the heavy castle.

“Rosa!”

Stifling a sigh, Rosa turned and gave a small smile as Estelle, Ginny, and a hyperventilating Colin all ran up to greet her, dimly aware of her SLytherin companions drawing further away behind her.

“We won!” Colin gasped, grabbing hold of Rosalind’s shoulders and jumping up and down. “We won, we won, we won, we won!”

Ginny slugged Colin in the side, and he quickly let go of Rosalind with a swear, rubbing his arm.

“Are you coming back to the common room with us?” Estelle couldn’t stop smiling as she put her arm around Rosalind’s waist, pulling her towards the grand staircase.

“Well, I kinda-”

“We’re going to party!” Colin cheered, punching the air and laughing.

“That sounds-”

“McGonagall said she wouldn’t object to it going on all night,” Ginny said as she linked her arm through Rosalinds. “Maybe we can get you to juggle again, heh Rosa?”

“I don’t think-”

“Hey, Black!”

All the Gryffindors stopped, turning to the source of the voice. Rosalind let out a sigh of relief as Blaise appeared in the hall, tailed by Stygian and Astoria.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Rosalind. “Are you coming?”

Rosalind gave him a relieved smile. “Yeah, yeah I’m coming.”

“What?!”

Rosalind turned back to give her friends an apologetic smile. “Guys, I’m sorry, but after the way the last party ended, and the rumors, I just… I don’t think I can…”

Ginny gave Rosalind a desperate, searching look that Rosalind couldn’t bear to see. She looked at her Gryffindor friends, begging them to understand as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Besides,” Blaise gave Rosalind a satisfied smirk as she turned to look at him, “you promised me a drink.”

Astoria came up on Rosalind’s other side, linking arms with her as she gave the Gryffindors a smile. “I promise we’ll bring her back in one piece.”

“Can we hold you to that?” Ginny countered, crossing her arms defiantly.

Stygian stepped in front of Rosalind, crossing his arms back at her friend. “I’m sure you know what older brother’s are like, Ginny. No one hurts my sister except me.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Rosalind scoffed, ruffling her hand through Stygian’s hair from behind.

Blaise cracked a smile and Astoria giggled as Stygian turned around with an irritated expression on his face, but he grinned down at her nonetheless as he started to push her towards the staircase to the dungeons. “Let’s go, you klutz.”

Laughing, Astoria grabbed Rosalind by the arm and dragged her down the hall ahead of the boys. For what felt like the first time since her fight with Harry, Rosalind let herself get caught up with her contagious energy. The two ran laughing down the hall, tailed by the boys, Rosalind all too aware of the heat burning her back from the shocked looks her friends were casting after her. 

“Should we stop by the kitchens for some comfort food?” Stygian winked at Astoria as the group of them came to a stop by the foot of the staircase.

“You think Crabbe and Goyle haven’t already?” Astoria laughed, elbowing Rosalind in the side as she let out a giggle.

“Can we trust them to have provided some real food this time around?” Blaise snorted, and the three Slytherins gave visible winces.

“What happened last time?” Rosalind queried as she followed them deeper into the dungeons, past the potions classroom.

Astoria let out an irritated sigh. “They somehow managed to order nothing but raw sugar.”

“Not even processed sugar,” Stygian gave a bemused grin. “Those oafs somehow managed to get the house elves to bring us raw sugar cane.”

“Professor Sprout threw a fit when she found all of it missing from the greenhouse,” Blaise gave a wistful sigh, grabbing Rosalind by the arm as they approached another expanse of stone wall.

“What’s the password?” Astoria looked at Stygian, one hand on her hip as she tossed her voluminous brown hair over her shoulder.

Stygian grinned at Rosalind before looking at the wall with a satisfied smirk. “Snitches get stitches!”

Immediately, the stones in the wall rolled to the side, not unlike the stone walls at Diagon Alley, revealing a large metal door. Stygian went through the entrance first, holding the door open for Astoria as she strutted inside. Blaise gave Rosalind a meaningful glance as he offered her his arm. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Rosalind took it, and allowed herself to be lead into the Slytherin Common Room.

The room seemed different from last time Rosalind had been inside. Granted, she had last been in the room over winter holidays, when no one was around to fill it. Now the beaten Slytherin team was in the center of the room, lounging with tired expressions on the plush leather sofas, while their housemates came by and attempted to cheer them up. 

Harper Lee, a friend of Colin’s, gave Rosalind a curious look as she was lead in by Blaise. “What’s up, Gryff?”

“Gryff?”

“Gryffindor.”

Immediately, the chatter from the crowd ceased as the Slytherins turned towards Rosalind. The expressions on their numerous faces ranged from contempt, to sadness, to even hatred.

Blaise stepped up next to Rosalind and put a hand on her shoulder, looking the Slytherins in the room in the eyes. “Her entire family is from Slytherin, she has a right to be here.”

The Slytherins shared nervous glances amongst each other, not willing to meet Rosalind's eyes.

Stygian stepped in front of Rosalind defensively, clearing his throat and crossing his arms. “Anyone who has a problem with Rosalind can take it up with me.”

No one seemed eager to lose for a second time that evening, and the people in the room shrugged and resumed their chatter.

“You bring your sister over to the dark side, Styg?” Marcus Flint, the burly team captain, gave Rosalind a curious look. “Say, you ever had any potions?”

Rosalind sat down in the armchair next to Flint, tucking her hands under her thighs. “Potions?”

“Bletchley and I are starting a business,” Marcus said with a wink at Rosalind, lifting up a bag from the ground. “Wit Sharpening, Euphoria Inducing, Dream Enhancing, whatever you need we have it!”

“Are you trying to get my sister involved in your underground potions smuggling ring?” Stygian scoffed from the floor, where he and Pansy were looming over a crestfallen Draco. 

“I’m just saying,” Marcus shrugged and leaned away from Rosalind, putting the bag back on the ground, “If those Gryffindors really are partying as hard as the rumors say, maybe they wouldn’t mind a little fun.”

“It’d be great for business,” drawled a Slytherin on the other side of Marcus, taking a swig of a bubbling purple potion out of a crystalline vial. He raised an eyebrow at Rosalind, using his hand to disheartedly swipe his shaggy hair away from his face to reveal his unfocused eyes.

“That’s Bletchley,” Blaise said with a snort as he sat down on the other side of Rosalind, squeezing into the armchair alongside her. “Don’t take them up on their offer, their potions aren’t worth it.”

“Well, you would know all about potions wouldn’t you,” Marcus muttered just loud enough for Blaise to hear, leaning forward with a snort of contempt. “Mama’s boy.”

Rosalind felt Blaise stiffen next to her and reach for his wand, but before he could do anything there was a loud pop from the fireplace.

“Food!” Crabbe and Goyle yelled in unison, running towards where a table of food had appeared out of thin air on the far side of the room.

“Finally,” Pansy snapped from the floor, turning to where Draco was lying facedown on the floor. “Dracie, come eat something. I made sure to get some fondue with that cheese you love.”

Draco didn’t move from the floor, but let out a muffled groan.

“Come on, champ,” Stygian heaved as he rolled Draco over so that he was lying faceup. “You’ve still got four more years to get that cup.”

“I was so close this time,” Draco whispered, his face deathly pale as he held his hand up, as if he was trying to grab the light streaming down the the chandelier above them. “I could feel it on my fingertips.”

“This is pathetic,” Blaise snorted, standing up and looking at Rosalind. “Well?”

With a look back at Draco, Rosalind stood up from the chair and followed Blaise over to the food, intent on filling her stomach as much as physically possible.

For the next several hours, Rosalind stayed with the Slytherins. Marcus and Bletchley tried to goad her into buying a potion, and in an attempt to get them off her back Rosalind regretfully traded seven sickles and three knuts for a Euphoria Inducing potion. Astoria dragged her away from the common room and into her bedroom to meet some of the other Slytherin second years, and though they greeted her warily at first they eventually joined Astoria in attacking Rosalind’s curly hair, straightening it out as best as they could. Rachel, Bridget, and Astoria were all shrieking with delight at the final result, and Rosalind couldn’t help but join into their excitement. They all returned to the common room, showing off their stunning creation with whistles of appreciation from some of the boys.

“Doesn’t it seem demeaning to you when boys do that?” Rosalind whispered to Astoria with a meaningful glance towards the jeering Quidditch team.

“It does,” Astoria admitted, before giving the boys a coy wave and a smirk. “But it’s a magic all on its own.”

“How?”

Astoria laughed alongside Rachel and Bridget. “Rosa, dear, once you know how to control a man with false promises, you can take over the world.”

“Girls?” Rachael flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked back at them. “We run this house.”

Soon the clock showed that it was after midnight, but Rosalind didn’t want to return to Gryffindor tower. As much as she hated to admit it, she was enjoying hanging out with the Slytherins. Though the members had to get over having a Gryffindor in their common room, it only took a moment. Rosalind couldn’t help but wish her housemates could get over her family heritage as quickly as the Slytherins got over her house difference.

“Black!”

Rosalind looked up as Draco called her over, waving an empty bottle of butterbeer. “What?”

“That last move,” Draco hissed, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “Your boyfriend screwed me over.”

Rosalind sat down on the floor next to Draco, frowning at the seeker. “Harry Potter isn’t my boyfriend. Besides, he hates me.”

Several Slytherins in the area laughed, clinking their bottles together and taking large swigs. 

“Join the club,” Draco scoffed taking a gulp from his own bottle. 

“If you’ll accept this Gryffindor’s apology,” Rosalind sighed, warily looking up at Draco, “Then I’m sorry about that. You guys were absolutely screwed over there. In normal circumstances, you would have won.”

Draco gave her a curious look, nodding to himself as Crabbe and Goyle muttered their agreements. “You’re not bad, Rosa.”

“Thanks?”

Flicking his wand, Draco summoned over an open bottle of butterbeer, handing it over to Rosalind. “Here. Gotta warn you though, it’s spiked.”

“Think I can’t handle it?” Rosalind challenged, popping it open with a flick of her wand and taking a deep gulp. The sweet liquid must have had Firewhiskey added to it; it left a surprisingly pleasant burn on the back of her throat as she downed the bottle in one go, getting cheered on by Slytherins around her.

“Another!” Rosalind yelled, holding her first upside down in the air to prove she’d drunk it all.

“Maybe that’s not the best idea,” Stygian cautioned as Draco passed her another bottle, and Rosalind took a large swig. 

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Draco said with a smirk at Stygian, offering him his own bottle. “Come on, while we don’t have parents here to tell us what to do.”

“Live a little, Styg,” Rosalind laughed, tossing her empty second bottle to a dumbfounded Marcus Flint.

“You going to let a girl beat you?” Marcus egged Stygian on, shaking the empty bottle at him.

“A younger girl?” Harper scoffed at Stygian, giving Rosalind a high five. 

Draco leaned dangerously close to Stygian, guiding Stygian’s hand over to the bottle and wrapping it around it, keeping his own hand on top to ensure he didn’t let go. “Your own sister?”

Stygian stood up and ran his hand through his hair, getting a delighted shriek from Astoria and her friends. “No way.”

Rosalind watched, stunned, as the egghead of a brother she knew and loved grabbed the bottle and downed it in thirty seconds, letting out burp so loud the windows seemed to shake.

“Yeah, Styg!” Rosalind yelled, high fiving her brother as he triumphantly tossed the bottle at the ground. 

It wasn’t long until she started to feel the effects of the Firewhiskey. Rosalind and Astoria clung to Blaise, everything seemed to be really funny. The common room seemed to get blurry, and when she listened to people talking it was almost as if everything was underwater. At one point she thought Astoria was teaching her how to cartwheel, but it didn’t seem to register in her brain. The last thing she clearly remembered was the giant squid, looking at her with its giant eyeball as the effort to keep her eyes open became too overwhelming, and she succumbed to the night. 

Rosalind wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke up, but watery sunlight was streaming in through the window she was sleeping under, bathing her face in the warm glow. She was lying on a makeshift mattress fashioned from a series of blankets and cushions against the window of the third year boy’s dormitory.

“You’re awake!”

Rosalind turned to the source of her brother’s voice, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Hm?”

Stygian was sitting on his bed, a book lying open in his lap. His eyes were bright as he smirked at Rosalind, resting his head on his hands. “How did you sleep, your highness?”

“How did you sleep?” Rosalind countered, shakily standing up, placing her hands on her hips defiantly. 

“Whose shirt is that?” Stygian asked curiously, gesturing towards the white, button up shirt she had on.

“I…” Rosalind looked down at the shirt, straightening it out self-consciously. “I don’t remember.”

“I’m disappointed,” Stygian shook his head and pretended to wipe away a tear. “We invite you into our common room, our dorms, our very lives, and you steal our clothes!”

“Will you two shut up!” Came a shout from the bed across from Stygian’s.

Rosalind turned to see a sleep burdened Draco Malfoy sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes with the corners of the silken green duvet.

“Why?” Stygian smirked at his dorm mate. “It’s not like you’re sleeping anymore.”

Draco grumbled and shot Stygian a disgruntled glare as he lay back down in his bed, pulling the covers over his head and holding them down tightly.

The door to the dormitory creaked open and Blaise Zabini walked in, already dressed as professionally and suave as always as he looked over at Stygian and Rosalind.

“Finally, you’re awake.”

Stygian hopped out of bed and stretched his arms up. “Good morning to you, too.”

“I’m hungry,” Rosalind grumbled from the floor, standing up shakily. “Can we get breakfast?”

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m ready if you are.”

“I’m coming, too!” Stygian tossed the book he was reading onto the bed, following Blaise and Rosalind out of the bedroom. “See ya, Draco.”

Dracos’ grumbles followed them out to the common room, where some stranglers from the party that Rosalind vaguely recognized were sitting in groups, finishing homework. They called out greetings to her as she passed by, and Rosalind couldn’t help but grin at them, tossing her still straight her over her shoulder like Astoria had shown her.

“You’re famous,” Stygian teased, holding the door open for her as they left the common room.

“Yeah…” Rosalind looked wistfully back at the Slytherins as the door to the common room closed, and the stone wall reformed over the entrance. “Hey, did you feed Snuffles?”

“Yeah,” Stygian nodded. “Before the match.”

Rosalind nodded, pace dropping as she tugged on the shirt she was wearing. The white collared shirt seemed overlarge on her, and the sleeves dangled past her hands.

“I expect that back,” Blaise told her pointedly as they began to climb up the steps to the great hall.

“Oh, it’s yours?” Rosalind felt her face grow warm. “Thank you, but what happened to my shirt?”

“Astoria tried to turn it into a v-neck,” Blaise said with a small smile. “Needless to say, she shredded it.”

“Frog spawn,” Rosalind hissed as they entered the great hall, and Blaise gave an amused snort.

They had overslept more than she originally had thought, and lunch was laid out on the four house tables. The shocked looks and distrustful whispers from the tired looking Gryffindors followed Rosalind as she meekly tailed her brother to the Slytherin table, taking a seat across from him and Blaise and next to Astoria.

“I never noticed how much they hate you,” Astoria said with a glare towards the Gryffindors. 

“They don’t know what they’re missing out,” Stygian huffed, putting a large sandwich on his plate and pouring a tall glass of iced pumpkin juice.

Blaise reached out and grabbed Rosalind’s arm as she reached for the flagon of juice. “Here, let me roll up the sleeves for you.”

“Thank you,” Rosalind said with a grin up at Blaise as he folded the overlarge sleeve up her arms, keeping it from dragging over the mustard laden sandwiches. Past Blaise, Rosalind could see Colin and Ginny watching her, jaws dropped, while Estelle looked on with a melancholy expression. 

“They’re going to be posting exam schedules at the end of the week,” Astoria informed them as they all took bites of their sandwiches. 

“Unicorn turds,” Stygian hissed, getting a disgusted look from Blaise in response. “I’m nowhere near ready.”

“Calm down,” Rosalind said with a smirk. “OWL’s aren’t until next year, big brother.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Stygian scoffed, crossing his arms. “And don’t act like you haven’t spent the past few weeks studying with Hermione.”

“Granger?” Astoria looked at Rosalind curiously.

“That mudblood?” Blaise wrinkled his nose at Rosalind.

“Woah!” Both Stygian and Rosalind turned to Blaise, disapproval mirrored on their faces.

Blaise took a sip of his pumpkin juice, refusing to look at them. “What?”

“I won’t tolerate that kind of talk,” Rosalind snapped, crossing her arms. “Hermione is one of the few Gryffindors who still talks to me, and I respect her for that.”

“You’re just jealous because she’s smarter than you,” Stygian snorted, finishing his sandwich with a few quick bites and standing up. “Come on, Rosa. I’ll walk you back to your common room.”

“With pleasure,” Rosalind snapped, taking two more sandwiches in her hands and running after her brother, the door to the great hall swinging shut behind them. 

The next week seemed to drag by for Rosalind. Gryffindor was simply elated to have won the house cup, and no amount of dementors could bring down the excitement. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling into the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake. 

But they couldn’t. The exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George had been spotted working; they were about to take their OWLs. Percy was getting ready to sit his NEWTs, the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. The only person who seemed more anxious than Percy was Hermione.

Rosalind had taken to studying in the library with Blaise, Harper, Astoria, and a few other Slytherins. It was nothing like studying alongside Hermione; Astoria’s mind wandered every few minutes, and she would beg Rosalind to let her straighten out her once again curly hair again. Blaise or Harper would bring her back to studying with a quick jibe, but it was short lived before she would beg one of them for help writing a problem, performing a spell, or simply try to distract them. 

She found that she enjoyed spending time with the Slytherins. For the first time that school year, the hostile glances and whispers from Gryffindor house didn’t bother her. They were countered with an aggressive, yet humorous, comment from Astoria, or a quick jinx from Blaise. Colin was ecstatic that another Gryffindor was talking to Harper, much to the shock of Ginny and Estelle. They were pretending to understand everything that Rosalind was going through, but it was hard for them to catch up when they only saw Rosalind in the early morning after waking up, and late at night when she came to the bedroom, exhausted, and went straight to bed.

All too soon, exams were starting. Rosalind tackled them head on, one by one, from transfiguring a teapot into a tortoise, to performing some desperately needed cheering charms. Rosalind purposely made hers too powerful when she aimed at Harry, and poor Professor Flitwick had to escort both him and Ron to the hospital wing. 

The most exciting and engaging exam was, to nobody’s surprise, Professor Lupin’s. It was a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a Boggart. 

Hermione gave Rosalind a surprised look as she returned to the waiting group, the congratulations from Professor Lupin still ringing in her ears. “What was your Boggart?”

“Me,” Rosalind replied smoothly and loudly, catching the attention of Harry and Ron, who were standing a few feet away from Hermione. “I don't want to be like the rest of my family.”

Hermione opened her mouth to ask something, but Rosalind was already walking away, headed intently towards the castle to wash the bog off of her shoes. As she walked away she could hear Professor Lupin inviting her onto the course, and she gave a nonchalant shrug as she went back into the castle.

At dinner Rosalind sat at the Slytherin table, her back to the Gryffindors. Stygian was sitting next to her, free of books for the first time in a while.

“We need to visit Snuffles,” Rosalind whispered, chewing on her lip anxiously. “It’s been a week.”

Stygian stifled a groan, running his hand through his hair.

“You look stupid when you do that,” Rosalind told him pointedly.

“Shut up,” Stygian sighed, slouching down in his seat. “Merlin, Rosa. I’m exhausted. Think you could do it yourself today?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

Rosalind looked around, making sure no one was listening before leaning closer to Stygian. “Styg, I’m worried about him.”

“Why?”

“He’s been trapped for so long… I’m worried he’ll do something… reckless.”

“Like what? If Scabbers is really dead, then what could he do?”

Rosalind frowned, furrowing her eyebrows together as her brother gave her a comforting smile. 

“Relax, Rosa. The term has ended, exams are over. He’ll be free to wander soon.”

Sighing, Rosalind turned back to her dinner and chewed on her lip. “I guess you’re right.”

Once she had finished eating, Rosalind hurried up to her room and grabbed a large knapsack. She slipped back out before anyone else could come back from dinner and ask any questions, sliding down the grand staircase till she reached the dungeons. Weaving through the halls, she finally snuck up to the large painting of a bowl of fruit, and tickled the pear. It swung open with a giggle, and she slide down through the entrance. Jumping out into the crowded kitchens.

The house elves squeaked greetings as they ran around the kitchen, cleaning dishes from dinner and preparing food for breakfast. Most of them didn’t pay attention to Rosalind as she grabbed a bottle of pumpkin juice, a loaf of bread, and several sandwiches leftover from lunch. As an afterthought she dumped a fruit bowl into the bag, tying it shut and slinging it over her back as she darted back out the kitchen, climbing out the tunnel entrance at record speed, and running out of the castle. 

Slinking across the Clockwork Courtyard, Rosalind kept her head low as she ran along the familiar trail to the Whomping Willow. In the fading daylight, she could just make out the knot in the wood, and threw a nearby rock at it. The tree stopped its farse rustling in the wind, and Rosalind slipped into the tunnel and began to make her way through the familiar darkness towards her uncle's shack.

The tunnel seemed different than it had been her last visit. Maybe it was the increased temperature outside affecting the dampness of the underground, but Rosalind was sure she felt something fluffy brush past her legs. A split second later, Rosalind found herself crashing into something warm that let out several shouts. Jumping back she her wand, igniting it with a flick of her wrist. Under the light of her wand, she could see the straggled group of people before her, and squinted in shock at them.

“Professor Lupin?”

“Rosalind?”

Ron looked up at her from where he was lying on the ground, teeth gritted in pain. “Rosa?”

“Ron, what happened to your leg?” Rosalind gasped as she bent over her bandaged friend.

“Rosa?” 

Rosalind looked up, holding up her wand at the surprised yelps from Harry and Hermione, blinking in shock as she recognized the person in front of them.

“Uncle Sirius? What’s all this?”

“Uncle?!” Everyone turned towards Sirius and shouted while he gave a nonchalant scratch of his head.

“You mean, you knew this whole time?” Hermione gasped, pushing past the large object Sirius had been levitating in front of them.

Rosalind swallowed nervously as she looked around the group, everyone besides Sirius staring daggers at her, their expressions shocked.

“Well,” Sirius gave a half chuckle, dropping the limp figure of Professor Snape that he had been levitating and looking from Harry to Rosalind. “This is awkward.”

Rosalind trailed back through the tunnel, walking beside her uncle as he lazily drifted the unconscious body of Professor Snape ahead of them. Ahead of them limped Ron, Professor Lupin, and a man who had been revealed as the  mysterious Peter Pettigrew, tailing Crookshanks as they made their way down the tunnel in an awkward, six legged, line. Harry and Hermione walked behind Rosalind and Sirius, their muttering ringing in Rosalind’s ears as she tried to focus on her Uncle’s explanation of the nights events.

“You got him,” she managed to whisper, looking ahead to the rope bound Peter.

“Sure did,” he beamed.“What were you doing down here, eh?” 

Sirius put his arm around her as they walked. In the light from her wand Rosalind could see him smiling lightly, and he seemed as though an enormous weight had been lifted off of him, walking with a new bounce in his step.

“I was going to bring you more food,” Rosalind said with a smirk, shrugging so that the knapsack bounced on her back. “Guess you won’t need it though, huh?”

“I certainly hope not,” Sirius smiled, lifting his head in the air and breathing in deeply. “To be a free man… it’s an amazing feeling.”

“Have you talked to Harry?” Rosalind looked up at him as he took his arm away from her shoulders.  
“Of course,” Sirius grinned, glancing back at his godson. “After what you told me about his folks, I invited him to live with me.”

Rosalind smiled softly. “I bet he’d love that.”

“He seemed to, yes. But more importantly, have you talked to him?”

Rosalind shook her head, opening her mouth to respond when a shout from Professor Lupin echoed down the hall after them.

“We’ve made it!”

Extinguishing her wand with a flick, Rosalind ran ahead of the levitating body of her godfather, guiding Snape through the tunnel entrance and pulling him away from the tree’s thrashing distance before doubling back to help her uncle up through the hole. The grounds were very dark now, the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. 

Without a word, they set off, Pettigrew wheezing and occasionally whimpering. 

“One wrong move, Peter,” said Professor Lupin threateningly, ahead. His wand was pointed sideways at Pettigrew’s chest. 

Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. Snape was still drifting weirdly ahead of Sirius, his chin bumping on his chest. 

And then – a cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight. 

Snape collided with Lupin, Pettigrew and Ron, who had stopped abruptly. Sirius froze, Rosalind, Hermione, and Harry at a standstill behind him. They could make out Professor Lupin’s silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake. 

“Oh my –” Hermione gasped. “He didn’t take his Potion tonight! He’s not safe!”

“Run,” Sirius whispered. “Run! Now!” 

“Ron!” Rosalind gasped, grabbing her uncle by the arm and pointing towards the group in front of them. Ron was chained to Pettigrew and Lupin. Harry leapt forward, trying to squeeze past Rosalind, but Sirius caught him around the chest and threw him back. 

‘Leave it to me – run!’ 

Rosalind stood in place, frozen, as Professor Lupin began to transform before their very eyes. His height seemed to double. His mouth elongated into a snarling snout, and fur sprouted from every bare inch of his body. His hands curled into long, black paws as Ron tried to edge away in fear. 

Rosalind dover forward, ignoring the shouts from Hermione and Harry as she pointed her wand towards the ropes binding Ron’s hands to Lupins. “Diffindo!”

Ron fell to the side as his bonds were cut loose in time to avoid Sirius, now as the enormous, bear-like Snuffles, leap after Professor Lupin.

“Come on!” Rosalind urged, running up to Ron and helping him away from where Sirius was holding the werewolf down by his neck.

“You saved me!” Ron gasped as Rosalind leaned him against a tree on the side of the path.

“Careful, Weasley,” Rosalind gave him a half hearted smile as she shoved his wand into his hands. “Don’t fall in love with me.”

“Hey, Rosa?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Rosalind stared at Ron, stunned, until a scream from Hermione brought her back to the battle. 

Whipping around, she watched as Pettigrew transformed into his rat, the all too familiar Scabbers, and darted past her into the darkening woods.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Rosalind hissed, chasing after him through the darkening woods, wand drawn. “Lumine Semita!”

The spell hit Scabbers in the rear he scampered away, illuminating his furry behind with a glowing, blue light that Rosalind tailed as fast as she could. Behind her she could hear Harry yelling distantly to Sirius, and a split second later thundering pawsteps followed her. Snuffles caught up to her in a matter of seconds, giving a snort as he noticed the bouncing ball of blue light growing smaller as it slunk further away. He quickly drew ahead of Rosalind, giving chase to Scabbers till Rosalind could no longer make him out amongst the black trees, and slowed to a halt, gasping for breath.

A shiver seemed to go up her spine, and she looked up at the full moon. Floating across the illuminated sky were all the dementors that had been patrolling Hogwarts that year. They seemed to be headed straight towards Rosalind as she began to run blindly through the woods, doing her best to stay ahead of the cold rise of Dementors, of the sucking, joyless feeling they brought with them.

Gasping for breath, Rosalind burst out of the woods to find herself on the shore of a lake. In the center was Sirius, growling threateningly as he snapped at the descending dementors.

Rosalind ran up to his side, wand drawn and aimed up at the sky. “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!”

Not even a silver wisp came from the end of her wand as she sunk to the ground, feebly reaching for the bottle of Euphoria Inducing potion she had bought of Bletchley and Flint. 

“Expecto Patronum… Expecto… Patronum…”

The dementors sunk lower and lower. Rosalind felt her body go limp as two descended onto her, cutting her off from her Uncle. She thought she could hear Harry and Hermione in the distant, but it was too late for her. Maybe they could get to Sirius in time, maybe they could save him…

Rosalind couldn’t help but smile inwardly at her selflessness as the dementor above her slowly lowered his hood. It felt as if all the air was being pulled out of her lungs as Rosalind got lost in a silver cloud, and the world around her went black.


	13. Derivation

When Rosalind awoke she was dimly aware of the hospital bed she was lying in. Distant, arguing voices were echoing throughout the hall as she sat up groggily, putting a hand on her pounding head. Across from her, she could see Madame Pomfrey bent over an incredibly pale Ron, coaxing some kind of potion down his throat. Hermione was in the bed next to him. Looking terrified as she stared towards the entrance to the hospital wing. The door was slightly ajar, and Rosalind could make out the all too familiar shapes of Cornelius Fudge, and her very own mother.

A rustling came from beside her, and Rosalind turned to find Harry Potter in the bed beside hers. He stared at her for a moment, a million unreadable emotions going through his green eyes as Madame Pomfrey walked over to the two of them.

“Ah, you’re awake!” she said briskly. She placed an enormous clump of chocolate on the bedside table between Rosalind and Harry and began breaking it apart with a small hammer. 

“How’s Ron?” said Harry and Hermione together.

‘He’ll live,’ said Madame Pomfrey grimly. “As for you two … you’ll be staying here until I’m satisfied you’re – Potter, what do you think you’re doing?” 

Harry was sitting up, putting his glasses back on and picking up his wand. “I need to see the Headmaster.” 

“Potter,” said Madame Pomfrey soothingly, “it’s all right. They’ve got Black. He’s locked away upstairs. The Dementors will be performing the Kiss any moment now –” 

“What?!” Harry and Rosalind both shouted and leapt out of their beds, Hermione mimicking them from the other side of the room. 

Their shout must have been heard in the corridor outside; next second, Cornelius Fudge, Primrose Black, and Severus Snape had entered the ward. 

“Harry, Harry, what’s this?” said Fudge, looking agitated. “You should be in bed – has he had any chocolate?” 

“Minister, listen!” Harry said. “Sirius Black’s innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can’t let the Dementors do that thing to Sirius, he’s –”

Cornelius Fudge shook his head sadly. “Harry, Harry, you’re very confused, you’ve been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we’ve got everything under control …” 

“You haven’t!” Rosalind yelled, looking at her mother pleadingly. “You’ve got the wrong man! My uncle would never-”

She suddenly broke out into a severe coughing fit as Primrose Black glared over at her daughter, clutching her wand tightly in her hand. 

“Minister, listen, please,” Hermione said; she had hurried to Harry’s side and was gazing imploringly into Fudge’s face. “I saw him, too. It was Ron’s rat, he’s an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and –”

“You see, Minister?” said Primrose, staring soullessly at her daughter. “Severus was telling the truth…”

Severus Snape sniffed, looking disappointedly down at Rosalind. “Confunded, all of them… Black’s truly done a very good job on them…” 

“We’re not confunded!” Harry roared, glaring at Fudge.

“Gentleman, and lady!’ said Madame Pomfrey angrily. “I must insist that you leave. Potter is my patient, and he should not be distressed!” 

“I’m not distressed, I’m trying to tell them what happened!” Harry said furiously. “If they’d just listen –” 

But Madame Pomfrey suddenly stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Harry’s mouth, seizing the opportunity to force him back onto the bed. 

“Rosalind Black,” Cornelius Fudge looked at her with a sigh of relief. “You’ve got a sensible head on that neck of yours. Tell me what happened.”

Primrose was seething as she glared at Rosalind, her anger more than apparent.

“They’re telling the truth, Minister,” Rosalind said cooly, staring levely back at her mother.

Cornelius fudge gave a  _ tsk  _ and turned towards her mother, shaking his head. “Primrose, dear, I would have thought your daughter would be less susceptible to these stories.”

“Now, please, Minister, these children need care. Please leave –” Madame Pomfrey insisted. 

Primrose bowed her head to the Minister as he turned away, then turned to give Rosalind a scathing glare.

“We will discuss this when you return home,” Primrose told her, before briskly turning on her heel to follow the Minister out of the room.

The door opened again. It was Dumbledore. 

Harry jumped back out of his bed, pushing past Rosalind. “Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black –” 

“For heaven’s sake!” said Madame Pomfrey hysterically. “Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist –”

“My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr Potter, Miss Black, and Miss Granger,’ said Dumbledore calmly. “I have just been talking to Sirius Black –” 

“I suppose he’s told you the same fairy tale he’s planted in Potter’s mind?” spat Snape. “Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive–”

Rosalind seized the opportunity to run after her mother and grab her by the hand. “Mom, please. You can’t let them hurt him, he’s family.”

“He is no family of ours. He’s done terrible things, Rosalind.”

“But–”

“No buts!” Primrose turned on Rosalind so fast that Rosalind stumbled backwards to avoid being hit by her hair. “Rosalind Arcturus Black, I am thoroughly disappointed in you. That man is a monster–”

“So was the rest of our family!” Rosalind hissed, bristling as she took a step towards her mother. “I don’t see you so eager to murder them!”

“A dementor doesn’t murder anyone–”

“Um, it sucks out their soul? I don’t know what else you would call murd–”

“Mimblewimble.”

Rosalind choked, losing control of her tongue as her mother cast the spell. Glaring at her mother, she put her hand over her mouth and sat down quietly on the end of her hospital bed.

“You’ve gravely disappointed me,” Primrose spat, walking out of the room after a retreating Cornelius Fudge and Severus Snape, pausing only to remove the tongue tying curse from Rosalind before slamming the door shut behind her.

Babble from Harry and Hermione came from behind her, causing Rosalind to turn around, eyes brimming with tears as she looked up at Professor Dumbledore. He held up his hand to silence them and looked over at Rosalind, beckoning her closer to their group.

“You knew all this, didn’t you, Miss Black?”

Rosalind gave a quiet nod, wrapping her arms around herself.

“It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time,” he said quietly, turning to Harry and Hermione. “There is not a shred of proof to support Black’s story, except your word – and the word of three thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eye-witnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters’ Secret-Keeper.” 

“Professor Lupin can tell you –” Harry spoke up, getting silenced by a quick glance from Dumbledore. 

“Professor Lupin is currently deep in the Forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so distrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little – and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends –” 

“But –”

“Listen to me, Harry. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape’s version of events is far more convincing than yours.” 

“He hates Sirius,” Hermione said desperately. “All because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him –”

“Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady – entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife – without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius’ sentence.” 

“... But, you believe us?” Rosalind said quietly, looking desperately up at the Headmaster.

“Yes, I do,” said Dumbledore quietly. “But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister for Magic …” 

Rosalind looked up at Hermione, her own fear reflected in her friends eyes as Dumbledore went silent for a moment, pondering.

“What we need,” said Dumbledore slowly, and his light-blue eyes moved to Hermione, “is more time.” 

“But –” Hermione began. 

And then her eyes became very round. ‘OH!’ 

“Now, pay attention,” said Dumbledore, speaking very low, and very clearly. “Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you. You must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law – you know what is at stake … you – must – not – be – seen.” 

Rosalind had no idea what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door. 

“I am going to lock you in. It is –” he consulted his watch, “five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.”

“Good luck?” Harry repeated, as the door closed behind Dumbledore. “Three turns?” 

“What’s he talking about, Hermione?” Rosalind queried as she stood up to join the two of them. “What are we supposed to do?” 

Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain.

“Harry, Rosa, come here,” she said urgently. “Quick!” 

Rosalind and Harry moved uncomfortably close to Hermione, doing their best not to touch each other as she draped the chain around all of their necks. A tiny, sparkling hourglass was hanging from it. 

“Hermione? That’s not a-”

Hermione cut Rosalind off with a meaningful look as she grabbed hold of the hourglass.

Harry looked from one girl to the other, visibly confused. “Not a what?”

Hermione turned the hourglass over three times. 

The dark ward dissolved. There was a sensation akin to flying, very fast, backwards. A blur of colours and shapes rushed past them; Rosalind's ears were pounding. And then she felt solid ground beneath her feet, and everything came into focus again.

The three of them were standing in the deserted Hospital Wing and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. 

Harry looked wildly around, the chain of the hourglass cutting into everyone's necks. “Hermione, what –?” 

“Hush!” Hermione hissed, grabbing each of them by the arm and pulling them out into the entrance hall. They dutifully followed her down the steps, coming to a stop in front of the open doors to the castle.

“In here!” Hermione gasped as she dragged them across the hall to the door of a broom cupboard; she opened it, pushed them  inside amongst the buckets and mops, followed them in, then slammed the door behind them as Rosalind and Harry edged away from each other.

Harry pushed up his glasses in the half light, squinting around the closet. “What – how – Hermione, what happened?” 

“We’ve gone back in time,” Hermione whispered, lifting up the chain in the half light to display the hourglass charm. “Three hours back …” 

“But –” 

“Shh! Listen! Someone’s coming! I think – I think it might be us!”

“What were you guys doing?” Rosalind whispered as she leaned against the door with Hermione, ear to the wood.

“Visiting Buckbeak before he—” Hermione cut herself off and looked up at Rosalind. “Hey, remember what Dumbledore said?”

“Which thing?”

“More than one innocent life could be save… Harry, do you know what that means?”

Harry gave a delighted grin, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders. “Hermione, we’re going to save Buckbeak!” 

“But – how will that help Sirius?” Rosalind queried, leaning towards the two of them. 

Harry nodded excitedly. “Dumbledore said – he just told us where the window is – the window of Flitwick’s office! Where they’ve got Sirius locked up! We’ve got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak!”

“They can escape together!” Rosalind gasped, grinning at Harry. “Ingenious!”

Harry held up his hand for a high five, and Rosalind gave him one, grinning. A split moment passed before they remembered that they were mad at each other, and the smiles slowly dropped from their faces as the two of them quickly looked away.

Hermione cleared her throat from beside the door to the broom cupboard. “If we manage that without being seen, it’ll be a miracle!” 

“Well, we’ve got to try, haven’t we?” said Harry. 

He stood up and pressed his own ear against the door. “Doesn’t sound like anyone’s there … come on, let’s go …”

The Entrance Hall was deserted. As quietly and quickly as they could, they darted out of the cupboard and down the stone steps. The shadows were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest gilded once more with gold. 

“If anyone’s looking out of the window –” Hermione squeaked, looking up at the castle behind them. 

“We’ll run for it,” said Harry determinedly. “Straight into the Forest, all right? We’ll have to hide behind a tree or something and keep a lookout –” 

“OK, but we’ll go round by the greenhouses!” said Hermione breathlessly. “We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid’s front door, or we’ll see us! We must be nearly at Hagrid’s by now! You alright, Rosa?”

“I’m just glad to be included,” Rosalind huffed from behind them, giving a laugh. “Wow, is it bad that this feels normal?”

Harry and Hermione gave breathy chuckles as they tore across the vegetable gardens to the greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, fast as they could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, tearing towards the shelter of the Forest … 

“Right,” Hermione gasped as they reached the safety of the shadowy forest, “we need to sneak over to Hagrid’s. Keep out of sight, Harry …” 

They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the Forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid’s house, they heard a knock upon his door. They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. 

Rosalind and Hermione glanced at Harry as his voice echoed back to them from the entrance to the hut. 

“It’s us. We’re wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off.” 

“Yeh shouldn’ve come!” Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly. 

“This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done,” Harry said fervently. 

“Let’s move along a bit,” Rosalind whispered, creeping closer to the other side of the hut. “We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!” 

They crept through the trees until they saw the nervous Hippogriff, tethered to the fence around Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. 

“Now?” Harry whispered. 

“No!” said Hermione, grabbing Harry by the arm.

“Why not?” Harry glanced up, frowning at the innocent Hippogriff. 

Hermione looked over at Harry. “If we steal him now, those Committee people that came to kill him will think Hagrid set him free.”

Rosalind nodded, leaning forward to glance through a window into the hut. “We’ve got to wait until they’ve seen he’s tied outside!”

“That’s going to give us about sixty seconds,” Harry’s face dropped as he spoke, realizing how crazy of an idea this was. 

At that moment, there was a crash of breaking china from inside Hagrid’s cabin. 

“That’s Hagrid breaking the milk jug,” Hermione whispered. “I’m going to find Scabbers in a moment –”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they heard Hermione let out a shriek of surprise. 

“Hermione,” said Harry suddenly, “what if we – we just run in there, and grab Pettigrew –” 

‘No!’ said Hermione in a terrified whisper. “Don’t you understand? We’re breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody’s supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we’re seen –” 

‘We’d only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!’ 

Rosalind put her hand on Hermione’s arm and turned to look at Harry. “Harry, what do you think you’d do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid’s house?”

“I’d – I’d think I’d gone mad,” said Harry, “or I’d think there was some Dark Magic going on –” 

“Exactly! You wouldn’t understand, you might even attack yourself!”

“Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time,” Hermione added, throwing Rosalind a grateful look, “… loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!’ 

“Ok!” Harry conceded, visibly upset. “It was just an idea, I just thought –”

“Shut up!” Rosalind hissed as she jumped in front of them and pointed towards the castle. 

Dumbledore, Fudge, the old Committee member, and Macnair the executioner were coming down the steps. 

“We’re about to come out!” Hermione breathed, turning towards the back entrance to the hut. They sat silently as Ron, Hermione, and Harry came out of the cabin, pulling on the invisibility cloak and vanishing from sight.

“And you’re sure you didn’t look back at the castle?” Rosalind whispered to Hermione, giving her a worried look.

“Positive,” Hermione whispered, watching as the delegation entered the hut.

“Wait here,” Harry whispered to the two of them, creeping out of the safety of the forest. “I’ll do it.”

Neither one of them objected as Harry approached the Hippogriff and bowed deeply.

“Will this work?” Rosalind whispered fervently to Hermione, not taking her eyes off Harry.

“It better work,” Hermione muttered darkly, watching as Buckbeak sunk his head to his knees in return to Harry, and resumed gnawing on a pumpkin.

“Let’s help,” Rosalind hissed, approaching Buckbeak from the front as Harry worked on untying his rope. She bowed deeply to the creature, not taking her eyes off of his pale, yellow gaze. 

Buckbeak gave a small chirp and bowed back. 

“Help me!” Harry hissed at Rosalind. He was tugging on the rope, but Buckbeak still wouldn’t budge. 

Dumbledore’s voice rumbled from somewhere inside the cabin as Rosalind grabbed hold of the rope alongside Harry and began to heave. Buckbeak gave them dirty look and stood up, but refused to move forward. Instead, he dug his heels down and pulled back.

“Quick! Quick!” Hermione gasped, running up from behind the trees and grabbing the very end of the rope. With all of their combined efforts they finally managed to get the hippogriff to budge. They moved as fast as they dared, slinking back into the forest till they were out of sight of Hagrid's garden. The sound of twigs snapping under their feet echoing back towards the hut as they heard the slam of the door opening, and all four of them, even Buckbeak, froze to listen in.

Silence… then – 

“Where is it?” said the reedy voice of the Committee member. “Where is the beast?”

“It was tied here!” said the executioner furiously. “I saw it! Just here!” 

“How extraordinary” said Dumbledore. There was a note of amusement in his voice. 

“Beaky!” said Hagrid huskily. 

There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger. 

And then came the howling, they could barely hear Hagrid’s words through his sobs. 

“Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he’s gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!”

Buckbeak started to strain against the rope, trying to get back to Hagrid. The three of them tightened their grip and dug their heels into the Forest floor to stop him. 

“Someone untied him!” the executioner was snarling. “We should search the grounds, the Forest –”

“Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?” said Dumbledore, still sounding amused. “Search the skies, if you will … Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy.” 

“O’ – o’ course, Professor,” said Hagrid, who sounded weak with happiness. “Come in, come in …”

Rosalind listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more. 

“Now what?” whispered Harry, looking around. 

Buckbeak seemed to echo the thought, as he cocked his head towards Hermione and gave a questioning rumble.

“We’ll have to hide in here,” said Hermione, who looked very shaken. “We need to wait until they’ve gone back to the castle. Then we wait until it’s safe to fly Buckbeak up to Sirius’ window. He won’t be there for another couple of hours , this is going to be difficult …”

She looked nervously over her shoulder into the depths of the Forest. The sun was setting now, casting long shadows throughout the forest as the temperature began to dropped. 

“We’re going to have to move,” said Rosalind, turning away from the cabin. “We’ve got to be able to see the Whomping Willow, or we won’t know what’s going on.” 

“OK,” said Hermione, getting a firmer grip on Buckbeak’s rope. “But we’ve got to keep out of sight, remember …” 

“Don’t worry,” Rosalind said with a small smile. “I have a lot of practice sneaking out to the Whomping Willow.”

“Yeah, and when exactly are we going to talk about that?” Harry piped up, irritation clear in his voice.

“Shush!” Hermione cast him a glare, giving Buckbeak's rope a tug and following Rosa through the woods.

They moved around the edge of the Forest, darkness falling thickly around them, until they were hidden behind a clump of trees through which they could make out the Willow. 

“There’s Ron!” said Harry suddenly. 

A dark figure was sprinting across the lawn and its shout echoed through the still night air. “Get away from him – get away – Scabbers, come here –” 

And then they saw two more figures materialise out of nowhere. The silhouettes of Harry and Hermione chased after Ron as he dove to the ground, grabbing at Scabbers. 

“Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat –” 

“There’s Sirius!” gasped Rosalind, pointing up the slope. The great shape of the dog had bounded out from the roots of the Willow. They saw him bowl Harry over, then seize Ron … 

“Looks even worse from here, doesn’t it?” said Harry, watching the dog pulling Ron into the roots. “Ouch – look, I just got walloped by the tree – and so did you – this is weird –” 

The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see Harry and Hermione darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.

“That was Crookshanks pressing the knot,” said Hermione.

“And there we go …” Harry muttered. “We’re in.”

Heaving one, great, unified sigh, the three of them sank down onto the ground and looked up at each other, breaking out into nervous laughter.

In the distance, fading voices signified Dumbledore and the executioners heading back up to the castle. They sat in relative silence as Professor Lupin came rushing down the hill, easily freezing the Whomping Willow and slipping in through the tunnel.

“Snape should be coming soon…” Harry said quietly, frowning at the tree. “If I could just run out and grab the invisibility cloak-”

“No!” Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him back down. “Harry, you musn’t!”

Up the rise, the castle doors flew open and Snape had come charging out of them, running towards the Willow. Harry’s fists clenched as they watched Snape skid to a halt next to the tree, looking around. He grabbed the Cloak and held it up. 

“Get your filthy hands off it,” Harry snarled under his breath. 

“Shh!” Rosalind put her hand over his mouth with an irritated glance. 

Snape seized the branch Lupin had used to freeze the tree, prodded the knot, and vanished from view as he put on the Cloak. 

“So that’s it,” said Hermione quietly. “We’re all down there … and now we’ve just got to wait until we come back up again …” She took the end of Buckbeak’s rope and tied it securely around the nearest tree, then sat down on the dry ground, arms around her knees. 

“My legs are falling asleep,” Rosalind sighed, standing up and stretching towards the sky. “I’m going to go on a quick walk.”

“On your own?” Harry snorted, standing up quickly. “When you know a werewolf is going to be out in less than an hour?”

“You’re welcome to come along, Potter,” Rosalind looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “If you think I need a man to defend me.”

“No, no I—”

“Then why are you worried?” Rosalind turned away and headed further down the slope, weaving through the thick trees. 

“Wait up!” Harry’s shout followed her through the trees, followed by the thuds of heavy footsteps.

“You’re just going to leave us here?!” Hermione’s indignant shout echoed after them as Harry caught up to Rosalind, followed by a squawk from Buckbeak.

Rosalind giggled, jumping over a root as they skirted the cliff below the Whomping Willow. The forest was lit with a golden glow from the setting sun. In the late evening there wasn’t any birdsong coming down from the trees, but insects were beginning to stir. Cricket chirps were echoing from the marshes by the black lake, and lightning bugs were beginning to flash through the air, and throughout the noise of the heavy silence between Harry and Rosalind cut the thumping of their footsteps on the forest floor.

“Can we talk?” Harry finally spoke up after a few minutes, glancing over at Rosalind.

“About?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

Rosalind stopped walking and turned to Harry, putting her hands on her hips. “Ok, yes, I knew he was there. I’ve known since the attack on the Fat Lady.”

“Since Halloween?!”

“I guess…”

Harry gave an exasperated sigh and put his hands over his eyes. “Merlin, and you didn’t say anything?”

“Would you have listened?” Rosalind snapped, clenching her fists. “I wanted to tell you, I did, but after you snuck out to Hogsmeade and overheard the Professors gossip, you were determined to hate him!”

“So you were protecting a wanted criminal for the entire school year?”

“He’s my uncle…” Rosalind swallowed and looked down at her shoes. “Harry, he’s the only member of my extended family who understands me. We’re both the Gryffindors, the lions in the serpents den.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry sighed putting his hands in the air in defeat. “I get it.”

Rosalind gave a snort, turning away from Harry and beginning to walk back towards Hermione. “Sure.”

“Hey, wait!”

A hand grabbed ahold of Rosalind's and she froze, heart pace quickenning.

“What else do you need from me, Harry?”

“Your forgiveness?”

Rosalind turned back to Harry, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

Harry looked at her, desperation reflecting in his green eyes.

“Harry, honey,” Rosalind reached up to run her hand through his hair. “In order to seek forgiveness, one first needs to hear an apology.”

Harry gave a sigh as he took her other hand in his, gripping them tightly as he looked down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we made you feel like you didn’t belong in Gryffindor. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us what was going on with you. I’m sorry, for everything.”

“Cool,” Rosalind smirked and drew her hands away from Harry, giving him a solid pat on the head. “Well then, I accept you apology, and absolve you of your sins.”

“You’re insufferable,” Harry scoffed, but he was smiling as they began walking back through the woods.

“You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.”

Hermione and Buckbeak looked up as Rosalind and Harry came back into the clearing. “Hey! I need to talk to you guys.”

“Did something happen?” Rosalind asked worriedly, sitting down on the ground next to Hermione.

“Maybe, I don’t know. There’s just, there’s something I don’t understand … why didn’t the Dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out … there were so many of them …”

Harry sat down, too. “I-I’m not sure exactly either. All I know is what I saw. The nearest Dementor had lowered its mouth to mine, and then a large silver something had come galloping across the lake and forced the Dementors to retreat.” 

Hermione’s mouth was slightly open as she stared at Harry. “But what was it?” 

“There’s only one thing it could have been, to make the Dementors go,’ said Harry. ‘A real Patronus. A powerful one.”

“I’ve been trying to conjure one all year,” Rosalind said with a huff, crossing her arms. “I’ve had classes with Professor Lupin, but I can’t figure it out.”

“But who conjured this one?” Hermione stared at Harry with wide eyes.

Harry didn’t say anything.

“Didn’t you see what they looked like?”said Hermione eagerly. “Was it one of the teachers?”

“No,” said Harry. “He wasn’t a teacher.” 

“But it must have been a really powerful wizard, to drive all those Dementors away … If the Patronus was shining so brightly, didn’t it light him up? Couldn’t you see –?”

“Yeah, I saw him,” said Harry slowly. “But … maybe I imagined it … I wasn’t thinking straight … I passed out right afterwards …”

“Who did you think it was?”

“I think –” Harry swallowed, looking over at Hermione nervously. “I think it was my dad.” 

“Harry, your dad’s – well – dead,” she said quietly. 

“I know that,” said Harry quickly. 

Rosalind looked over at him, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You think you saw his ghost?” 

“I don’t know … no … he looked solid …”

“But then –”

“Maybe I was seeing things,” said Harry. “But … from what I could see … it looked like him … I’ve got photos of him …”

Rosalind and Hermione exchanged dubious glances as Harry fell silent, staring at Buckbeak apprehensively. The Hippogriff didn’t notice, and pawed casually at the ground as the three of them sat in silence as the temperature began to drop.

“Look!” Rosalind jerked up as a figure approached from the school. “Is that… me?”

Hermione looked up, peering around the tree. “It is! That means there’s not much left to go!”

“Is that really what my hair looks like?” Rosalind frowned, leaning further out from behind the tree. 

“You look like Sirius,” Harry said quietly from behind them, and Rosalind cast him a bemused glance. 

They watched in silence as the other Rosalind froze the Whomping Willow and descended into the tunnel, and waited.

“Here we come!” Hermione whispered. 

She and Harry got to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. 

They saw Lupin, Ron and Pettigrew clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. Then came Rosalind guiding out the unconscious Snape and pulling him away from the tree. Next came Sirius, tailed by Harry and Hermione. 

They all began to walk towards the castle. 

Rosalind’s heart was starting to beat faster and she glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move aside and show the moon.

Harry gave a nervous swallow behind them, taking a wary step forward. “We could-”

“Harry,” Hermione muttered, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, “we’ve got to stay put. We mustn’t be seen. There’s nothing we can do …” 

“So we’re just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again …” said Harry quietly. 

“How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?” snapped Hermione. 

Rosalind flushed. “Actually, I cast-”

“That doesn’t help me prove my point,” Hermione said with a quick frown at Rosalind. “There’s nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius. We’re not supposed to be doing anything else!”

“All right!” Harry growled, and the three of them turned back to the scene. 

The moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures across the grounds stop. Then they saw movement – 

“There goes Lupin,” Hermione whispered. “He’s transforming –” 

“Guys!” said Harry suddenly. “We’ve got to move!” 

“We mustn’t, I keep telling you –”

“Not to interfere! But Lupin’s going to run into the Forest, right at us!” 

Hermione gasped. 

“Quick!” she moaned, dashing to untie Buckbeak. “Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide?”

Rosalind took hold of Buckbeak's rope, helping pull the Hippogriff alond. “The Dementors will be coming any moment –”

“Back to Hagrid’s!” Harry said. “It’s empty now – come on!” 

They ran, fast as they could, Buckbeak cantering along behind them. They could hear the werewolf howling behind them … 

The cabin was in sight. Harry skidded to the door, wrenched it open and Hermione, Rosalind, and Buckbeak flashed past him; Harry threw himself in after them and bolted the door. Fang the boarhound barked loudly. 

“Shh, Fang, it’s us!” said Hermione, hurrying over and scratching his ears to quieten him. 

“That was really close!” Rosalind gasped to Harry. 

“Yeah …” Harry was looking out of the window. It was much harder to see what was going on from here.

Buckbeak seemed very happy to find himself back inside Hagrid’s house. He lay down in front of the fire, folded his wings contentedly and seemed ready for a good nap. 

“I think I’d better go outside again, you know,” said Harry slowly. “I can’t see what’s going on – we won’t know when it’s time –”

“You’re not going out there alone,” Rosalind snapped, gripping her wand.

“By all means, come with me,” Harry sighed, creaking the door open. 

Hermione looked up. Her expression was suspicious. 

“I’m not going to try and interfere,” said Harry quickly. “But if we don’t see what’s going on, how’re we going to know when it’s time to rescue Sirius?” 

“Well … OK, then … I’ll wait here with Buckbeak … but Harry, be careful – there’s a werewolf out there – and the Dementors –” 

“I’ll keep him in check,” Rosalind said with a wink at Hermione, slipping out of the cabin and into the night.

Harry looked up at Rosalind, making brief eye contact before quickly glancing away. Rosalind swallowed nervously as the door shut behind her, unsure of what to say, or if she ought to say anything at all. Instead she turned to focus on the darkened forest, knowing that somewhere in the woods her uncle was running for his life. 

A yelp echoed through the silence. Rosalind exchanged a nervous glance with Harry and the two of them took off running towards the sound. That was where the dementors were closing in on Sirius. 

From where they were running they could see the Dementors, raggedy shadows closing in on the opposite bank of the lake. 

“The person who cast the charm was over here!” Harry called out, running towards an open spot on the lakeshore.

Rosalind swallowed nervously, pulling the bottle of Euphoria Inducing potion out of her pocket and gripping it in one hand, wand drawn in the other. “Harry, you don’t think-”

“It could be!” Harry snapped, coming to a stop at the lakeshore, behind a row of bushes on the very edge of the water. There was no sign of anybody. 

On the opposite bank, sparks of silver light were shooting their reflections across the water– Harry’s own attempts at a Patronus –  the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. 

“Come on!” he muttered, staring about. “Where are you? Dad, come on–” 

Rosalind looked up nervously. Some of the dementors seemed to be straying from the ground, as if they could sense Rosalind on the other end of the lake. “Harry, I really think–”

“He’ll be here!” Harry snapped, looking back at her. “Wait, is that a potion?”

Rosalind gave a nervous swallow. “It might help.”

A chill caused them both to turn back to the lakeshore. Two dementors were heading straight for them. Their freezing auras drained Rosalind of her energy and she crumbled onto the ground, the bottle rolling to Harry’s feet. 

“Rosa!” Harry’s shout echoed through the cold as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She watched, shivering as understanding dawned on Harry. He picked up the potion, downing it in a few gulps and turning to face the oncoming dementors, jumping out from behind the bush with his wand drawn. 

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Out of the end of Harry’s wand burst not a wisp of silver, but an enormous animal. It galloped towards the dementors, radiating waves of pure energy and driving them off. It lowered its head and charge at the swarming Dementors, galloping around and around the black shapes on the ground, and the Dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness … they were gone. 

The Patronus turned. It was cantering back towards Harry across the still surface of the water. It wasn’t a horse. It wasn’t a unicorn, either. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above as it stopped on the bank. 

Rosalind struggled to sit up, watching in awe as the creature bowed its head to Harry. He reached his hand up towards it, but it dissolved into a silver mist, and was gone.

“Harry?”

Harry turned around quickly, shaking his head as he ran over to Rosa and helped her up off the ground. “I’ve never been able to do that before… what was in that potion?”

Rosalind gave a nervous swallow. “It was euphoria inducing. I can’t seem to find a happy thought, so I was never able to cast the charm. It seemed like a safe alternative…”

Harry gave her a nod, his eyes distant.

“Are you okay?” Rosalind ventured, reaching up to brush his hair away from his face.

“I–”

“Harry Potter! Rosalind Black!”

Rosalind and Harry jumped, turning around at the sound of hooves. Hermione was coming over the ridge, Buckbeak in tow. Her eyes were fiery as she glared at the two of them.

“What did you two do?” she said fiercely. “You said you were only going to keep a lookout!” 

“I just saved all our lives …” said Harry indignantly, pulling Hermione over to the row of bushes. “Get behind here – behind this bush – I’ll explain.” 

Hermione listened to what had just happened with her mouth gaping open. “Did anyone see you?” 

“Yes, haven’t you been listening? I saw me but I thought I was my dad! It’s OK!” 

“Harry, I can’t believe it – you conjured up a Patronus that drove away all those Dementors! That’s very, very advanced magic …” 

Rosalind jumped up, cutting the two of them off from their bickering. “Look at Snape!’ 

Together they peered around the bush at the other bank. Snape had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Harry, Hermione, Rosalind, and Sirius onto them. A fifth stretcher, no doubt bearing Ron, was already floating at his side. Then, wand held out in front of him, he moved them away towards the castle. 

“Right, it’s nearly time,” said Hermione tensely, looking at her watch. “We’ve got about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. We’ve got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anybody realises we’re missing …” 

They waited, watching the moving clouds reflected in the lake, while the bush next to them whispered in the breeze. Buckbeak, bored, was ferreting for worms.

“Reckon he’s up there yet?” Harry said with a frown, looking up at the castle with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Look!” Hermione whispered. “Who’s that? Someone’s coming back out of the castle!” 

A man was hurrying across the grounds, towards one of the entrances. Something shiny glinted in his belt. 

“Macnair!” said Harry. “The executioner! He’s gone to get the Dementors! This is it!”

Rosalind waited for Hermione to climb onto Buckbeak before clambering on behind her. Harry tied the Hippogriffs rope to the other side of his collar to form reigns before climbing on in front of Hermione.

“You’d better hold on to me,” he called back with a devious tone to his voice.

Rosalind barely had time to grab ahold of Harry’s waist, squishing Hermione between the two of them as Harry gave Buckbeak a quick kick in the side.

Buckbeak soared straight into the dark air. Rosalind gripped his flanks with her knees, feeling the great wings rising powerfully beneath them. Hermione had gone stiff as a board; she could hear her muttering, “Oh, no – I don’t like this – oh, I really don’t like this –” 

Harry urged Buckbeak forwards. They were gliding quietly towards the upper floors of the castle, the wind blowing Rosalind’s hair away from her face as she tried to count the windows flashing past them. 

“Whoa!” Harry called out, pulling backwards.

Buckbeak slowed down and they found themselves at a stop, unless you counted the fact that they kept rising up and down several feet as he beat his wings to remain airborne. 

“He’s there!” Rosalind cried out, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. 

Harry reached out, and as Buckbeak’s wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass. 

Sirius looked up, and his jaw dropped. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked. 

“Hermione?!” Harry called back to her, but she gave a shake of her head.

“I can’t reach my wand! Rosa’s in the way!”

“I got this! Stand back!” Rosalind called tout, and she took out her wand, still gripping the back of Hermione’s robes with her left hand. ‘Alohomora!

The window sprang open. 

“How – how –?” said Sirius weakly, staring at the Hippogriff. 

“Get on – there’s not much time,” said Harry, gripping Buckbeak firmly to hold him steady. “You’ve got to get out of here – the Dementors are coming. Macnair’s gone to get them.” 

Sirius placed a hand on either side of the window-frame and heaved his head and shoulders out of it. It was very lucky he was so thin. In seconds, he had managed to fling one leg over Buckbeak’s back, and pull himself onto the Hippogriff behind Rosalind. 

“OK, Buckbeak, up!” said Harry, shaking the rope. “Up to the tower – come on!” 

The Hippogriff gave one sweep of its mighty wings and they were soaring upwards again, high as the top of the West Tower. 

Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements and Rosalind, Harry. and Hermione slid off him at once.

“Sirius, you’d better go, quick,” Rosalind panted, reaching up to give him an awkward parting hug. “They’ll reach Flitwick’s office any moment, they’ll find out you’ve gone.” 

Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head. 

“What happened to the other boy? Ron?” said Sirius urgently. 

Harry gave a small smile. “He’s going to be OK – he’s still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she’ll be able to make him better. Quick – go!” 

Sirius was staring down at them, eyes brimming with emotion. “How can I ever thank –”

“Go!” The three of them shouted together. 

Sirius gave a small laugh, leaning down to plant a kiss on the top of Rosalind's head before wheeling Buckbeak around, facing the open sky. 

“We’ll see each other again, little one,” he said with a smile before turning back to Harry. “You are truly your father’s son, Harry.”

He squeezed Buckbeak’s sides with his heels. 

Harry and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more. The Hippogriff took off into the air, he and his rider became smaller and smaller as Rosalind gazed after them, a heavy lump growing in her throat as she watched the truest family she’d ever known vanish into the night. Then a cloud drifted across the moon, and they were gone.

“Rosa!”

A warm hand on her own brought Rosalind back to the present. She looked up at Harry and let out a deep breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. As it left her body she became painfully aware of how fatigued her body was; there was a throbbing pain in her left knee that radiated throughout her entire leg.

“Come on,” Harry said quietly, not letting go of her hand as he pulled her along. “We’ve only got ten minutes to get back to the hospital wing.”

“Right…”

Rosalind followed Hermione and Harry in a daze, the only thing keeping her from falling asleep on her feet was Harry.

“Hermione – what’ll happen – if we don’t get back inside – before Dumbledore locks the door?” Harry panted as they rounded the top of the grand staircase. 

“I don’t want to think about it!” Hermione moaned, checking her watch again. “One minute!” 

They had reached the end of the corridor with the hospital-wing entrance. 

“OK – I can hear Dumbledore,” said Hermione tensely. “Come on, Harry!” 

They crept along the corridor. The door opened. Dumbledore’s back appeared. 

“I am going to lock you in,” they heard him saying. “It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.” 

Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door and took out his wand to magically lock it. 

Panicking, Harry and Hermione ran forwards, towing Rosalind along behind them. 

Dumbledore looked up, and a wide smile appeared under the long silver moustache. 

“Well?” he said quietly. 

“We’ve done it,” Hermione gasped, a small smile growing on her face as she looked up at the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore beamed at them. 

“Well done. I think –” he listened intently for any sound within the hospital wing. “Yes, I think you’ve gone, too. Get inside – I’ll lock you in –” 

The three of them slipped back inside the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, who was still lying motionless in the end bed. As the lock clicked behind them, they crept back to their own beds, Hermione tucking the Time-Turner back under her robes. 

Next moment, Madam Pomfrey had come striding back out of her office. “Did I hear the Headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?”

She was in a very bad mood. 

Rosalind thought it best to accept her chocolate quietly. Madam Pomfrey stood over them, making sure they ate it. 

“Madame Pomfrey?” Rosalind whispered as the nurse offered her a second piece of chocolate.

“What is it, dear?”

“Would, would it be too much to ask for a sleeping potion? One that guarantees no bad dreams?”

Madame Pomfrey gave a sigh, smiling sympathetically as she summoned over a vial of potion. “Here you are, dear.”

Rosalind took the potion in a few, quick, gulps, drowsiness overtaking her body as she collapsed back into the hospital bed. As Madame Pomfrey tucked her blankets in around her, she could just barely make out a whisper from Harry coming from the bed next to her.

“Sweet dreams, Rosa.”

The four of them were discharged from the hospital wing the following morning. The sweltering heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone who could was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Harry, Hermione, and Ron invited Rosalind to come spend the day with them on the lakeshore, but she refused. There were some people she needed to talk to first.

Ginny, Estelle, and Colin were playing gobstones in the Clockwork Courtyard when Rosalind finally found them. Ginny and Estelle looked at her warily as she approached them, but Colin greeted her with his usual grin.

“Heya, Rosa!” He said with a grin. “Say, did you hear about what happened last night?”

“Yeah,” Rosalind gave him a small smile as she came to a stop next to them. “Can, can we talk?”

Ginny crossed her arms, giving Rosalind a hard look. “Only if you’re going to be doing some explaining.”

Rosalind gave a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah, yeah I suppose you all deserve to know.”

Colin looked up curiously as Rosalind took a seat next to him, stretching in the warm summer sun. “Deserve to know what?”

“Everything, really.”

They sat in silence as Rosalind explained everything that had been going on with her that past year, starting all the way back from the halloween feast. The three of them listened intently as she talked about finding Sirius, the animagi process, and the events of last night. Colins facial expressions and reactions spoke louder than any apology ever could, whilst Estelle’s expression of awe shifted along with the story. Ginny, however, remained passive and immovable. Only at the very end, when Rosalind had nothing else to say, did she finally look up at her friend. 

“So… you’ve been helping a wanted convict all year, and you got mad at us for associating you with said murder convict?”

“That’s generalizing it and you know it,” Estelle hissed, elbowing Ginny in the side.

“We could apologize too,” Colin said, putting an arm around Rosalind’s shoulders. “After all, we didn’t exactly do anything to stop all those rumors about you.”

“I accept your apology,” Rosalind laughed, smiling gratefully at Colin before looking over at Ginny. “Do you accept mine?”

Estelle and Colin seemed to sense that the question was more directed to the redhead rather than them, and they turned to look at her questioningly. Ginny stood there for a moment, eyes focusing intently on her shoes, arms crossed.

Rosalind stood up hesitantly and took a cautious step forward, gingerly putting her hand on her friends shoulder. “Gin?”

There was a moment of heavy silence, and then a loud sniffle. Rosalind gingerly drew her hand away and watched in awe as Ginny wiped tears away from her eyes.

“Is… is that a yes?” 

Ginny turned and threw her arms around Rosalind while Colin and Estelle cheered.

“You’re not allowed to stop talking to me ever again,” she hissed into Rosalind's ear before leaning back, blinking tears out of her eyes. “Got that?”

“Got it,” Rosalind laughed, drawing her in for another hug. The two of them laughed as Estelle joined in, smiling so wide it seemed her face might break.

“Group hug!” Colin cheered, throwing his arms around the girls and squeezing them tightly. They all laughed and hugged him back, reunited in the warm June sun.

All too soon, it was time to pack their trunks and pile onto the Hogwarts Express. The train ride back to London was loaded with gossip; Professor Snape had exposed Professor Lupin as a werewolf, and their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had retired before any backlash could be thrown at Professor Dumbledore from disappointed parents. No one seemed to know the full story of what happened to bring Sirius Black to Hogwarts that fateful night, so the general student body was making all kinds of rumors. At one point Rosalind saw a Ravenclaw pull out a detailed diagram explaining how Sirius Black was a vampire and could therefore turn into a bat. 

Everyone received their exam results at the end of term. Rosalind had passed every subject with flying colors, much to her delight. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had as well. Harry kept telling her how sure he had been that he would fail Potions, due to Snape’s personal vendetta against him, but Rosalind had done her best to assure him her godfather wouldn’t be that vengeful.

Percy had got his top-grade NEWTs; Fred and George had scraped a handful of OWLs each. Gryffindor house, meanwhile, largely thanks to their winning of the Quidditch Cup, had won the House Championship for the third year running. This meant that the end-of-term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table had been the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated. 

“Rosa!”

Rosalind looked up with a small smile, dropping her trunk on the concrete floor of platform 9 3/4. “Hey, Harry. Come to say goodbye?”

“Something like that,” Harry said with a smirk, pulling out a scroll from his raggedy pants pocket. “And, to give you this.”

Rosalind took the scroll, smiling as she saw the black paw print signature on the front. “How did he…?”

“Sent an owl,” Harry smirked and jerked his head towards where the Weasley’s were clamoring over a corner of the platform. “Ron’s keeping it as a pet, actually. Compensation for destroying Scabbers.”

“He has such a big heart,” Rosalind sighed dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “You could learn a thing or two.”

“Hah, hah,” Harry bumped her in side. “Will you write this summer?”

“You might hear from me now and then,” Rosalind said coyly, running a hand through her hair. “Don’t expect to hear anything from me during the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Right,” Harry said with a longing look in his eyes. “Ron and his family are going to take me with them.”

“Well then, Mister Potter,” Rosalind pinched the end of his nose. “I’ll be seeing you come August.”

“Stop it, you,” Harry snorted, drawing her in for a tight hug. 

Rosalind hugged back, grinning shamelessly as Colin walked past her giving two thumbs up.

“Rosalind Black!” 

Rosalind groaned and drew away from Harry at the sound of her mother's voice, giving him a pained smile. “See you later, then.”

“See you soon,” Harry promised, giving Rosalind a sad smile before turning to run over to the Weasley’s. 

Rosalind watched him go, doing her best to shove aside the longing she felt threatening to overwhelm her as she turned to face her mother. 

Primrose Black was watching Rosalind from a few feet away, a disappointed and judgemental expression painted onto her face. “If you’re quite done gossiping…”

“Yes, Mother,” Rosalind muttered mutinously, glaring down at her shoes.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about that night,” Primrose snapped as Stygian came over to join them. “You can expect to be grounded for the first month of break, after pulling a stunt like that in front of the Minister.”

Their ride back to their family apartment was a quiet one. Stygian filled in the cold silence between Rosalind and their mother with chatter about the school year and his high ranking, pureblood friends. Pulling the scroll from Sirius out of her pocket, she read the letter to herself with a small smile.

 

_ Dearest Rosalind, Stygian, _

_ I hope Harry finds a way to get this to you two before you all split ways at the end of term.  _

_ Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won’t tell you where, in case this falls into the wrong hands. One can never be too careful these days, as these are troubling times. _

_ I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven’t a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted for the next school year. _

_ I wanted to thank the two of you. You were truly the highlight of this past year. You couldn’t begin to understand the joy I felt learning that more members of our family were, for lack of better terms, like me. Don’t ever change. I could never be more proud of my Gryffindor niece, and my illegal animagus nephew.  _

_ Know that if either of you are ever in need of anything, you can write to me. Send word, and your owl will find me. _

_ With Love, _

_ Your Uncle Sirius _


	14. Reunited

Rosalind could not have imagined a slower first two months of summer.

For the remainder of June, and the entirety of July, Rosalind Black was grounded. Her mother, Primrose, had been more than disappointed with Rosalind after she sided with Harry Potter over her Godfather, Severus Snape, over the claimed innocence of Sirius Black, embarrassing her mother in front of her boss, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and putting Primrose’s reputation at risk. For her disobedience, Rosalind had more or less been put under house arrest, or rather, apartment arrest. Her tutors came to their apartment for her weekly sessions, and her summer homework was completed within the first two weeks of summer break. There was so little to do that, with some reluctant assistance from Stygian, the two of them managed to re-shelve the books in their family library twice.

There were numerous letters arriving to Rosalind from her friends, both in Gryffindor and Slytherin house, but she wasn’t allowed to respond. Many of her Slytherin friends figured out that it would be easier to send a letter to her through Stygian, but her Gryffindor friends were left in the dark. All Rosalind could do was sit and read as Harry vented about his cousin’s diet that had been forced upon his entire family, Hermione talked about her vacation on the French Riviera, and Ginny and Ron told her about the many instances they fell victim to Fred and George’s newest pranking creations. Thanks to Stygian, Rosalind managed to sneak a package containing sweets, cured meats, and an enormous, homemade, decadent triple chocolate birthday cake out to Harry, in an attempt to aid his battle against his family’s brutal diet.

Through Harry, Uncle Sirius managed to send two letters to Sirius and Rosalind. He was hesitant to send a letter directly to their household, considering their mothers unbelievably low opinion of him. There was no change to his situation, he was still on the run with Buckbeak, apparently residing at the moment in a more tropical country. It was unlikely that he would be returning to England any time soon, and he missed their company terribly.

Even though Primrose barely acknowledged Rosalind, and vice versa, no Black could ignore the overworked anxiety that haunted Primrose wherever she went. She was working longer than Stygian and Rosalind had ever seen her work, sometimes not even returning home to spend the night in her own bed. They both knew that she had her hands full keeping Ludo Bagman on top of putting together the Quidditch World Cup, but there was a second, secretive project she wasn’t allowed to inform them about.

It was thanks to Stygian that their summer was saved. In a moment of her tired weakness, Primrose let slip to Stygian that their upcoming year at Hogwarts would include… a Christmas ball.

“However,” Stygian grabbed hold of Rosalind as she radiated with excitement, bouncing up and down in anticipation. “It’s only for fourth years and higher.”

Rosalind stopped her excited bouncing to give her brother a bemused glance. “So?”

“So… you’re a third year?”

“Yeah, right,” Rosalind scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Like you’d get away with not taking me.”

“Well…”

Rosalind slugged Stygian in the arm so hard he gave an cry of pain and shoved her away, rubbing his arm fervently.

“Alright! I’ll take you!”

“Promise?”

“I promise!”

Rosalind gave him a satisfied smile. “Good, then we can get to planning our matching outfits for this ball.”

“Matching? Alright… but we aren’t going as dementors again.”

“The bejeweled dementor costumes were for a different crowd—”

“I hardly think the Minister of Magic’s Hallows Eve Gala was the right crowd for hulking cloaks covered in glitter.”

“Maybe not… but the reaction from Mother was priceless. This time around we need something more refined, elegant…”

Stygian winced as he inspected the growing bruise on his arm. “Well, we better get to researching in our squeaky clean library then.”

Rosalind laughed as she followed Stygian down the hall. “Whatever you say, Mothboy.”

“Excuse you, it’s MothMAN.”

As the first of August came and went, Rosalind and Stygian solidified their concepts for their ball outfits, and were hard at work hand sewing the matching set. They weren’t entirely sure if their work qualified as school appropriate dress robes, but Rosalind had convinced Stygian that it was more than worth the risk.

With her grounding lifted, Rosalind finally sent all her drafted, revised, and over prepared letters to her waiting friends, eager to find out who was going to be coming to the Quidditch World Cup. Ron and Ginny were taking Harry and Hermione along to the final match, whilst Astoria and Luna were going to be there for an entire week beforehand to watch the semi-finals.

Stygian and Rosalind were being forced to accompany their mother for the entirety of the cup, over a week of non stop Quidditch games. Thankfully, their mother had received tickets for their entire family in the top box, the prestigious viewing box where the Minister of Magic would be sitting alongside delegates from other countries whose teams would be competing. Their ball preparations were put on hold for a bit as they went from obsessing over muggle fashion in the 1920’s, to pouring over stats of the players and teams scheduled to play off at the World Cup.

Three days before the matches were actually set to start, the Black’s arrived at the campground outside the ginormous Quidditch stadium. Their tent was significantly more extravagant than the traditional muggle tent; the two story yurt had an impressive circular fireplace in the very center of both of the levels. The first floor had a large kitchen, dining room, living room, and full bathroom complete with a sauna. The upper floor was divided between two master bedrooms, one for Primrose with a king bed and walk in closet, and one for Rosalind and Stygian with two twin beds and a half bathroom.

The campsites surrounding the stadium were packed with people from all walks of life. The teams competing in the Semi-Finals came from as close as their country, England, to the far West of America and Peru, and the East of Japan. Supporters for the teams decked out their campsites with supportive flags and colorful displays, causing much panic among the ministry workers. Primrose had her hands full supervising a team of wizards that went around erasing the memories of the muggle campsite managers when they came across anything too wizard-esque, and was not all too missed by her children.

On the first official day of the semi-finals, Rosalind and Stygian met up with Astoria, Luna, and Draco to meander amongst the campsites, indulging in the sights and smells of foreign people, cultures, and most importantly, food. At a cluster of French tents a family of six was selling hot crepes, sweet and savory, for hardly a sickle. The Spanish tents next to them had a large assortment of delicious meats, as well as fresh churros and flan. The Japanese supporters were selling Bento boxes, artfully arranged lunch boxes than looked as good as they tasted, and a variety of ramen bowls you could take back to your tent to heat up. Nearly every team had brought a unique alcoholic beverage with them, and Stygian lamented not being old enough to purchase some to try.

Loaded with food, the group headed excitedly with an onslaught of their countries supporters to watch Transylvania and England play off. The Transylvanian teams mascot, the vampire bats, put on a stunning aerial display in the light of the setting sun before being scattered throughout the stadium by two sparkling yellow dragons that fizzled and popped through the air, leaving a trail of red and white smoke behind them before colliding in the middle of the stadium in an explosion of fireworks.

“That was… unexpected,” Astoria said gently as they left the stadium after the game with the tide of rather downcast Englishmen, though they weren’t downcast enough to forget to gawk at Luna’s hair; it was pulled back and held into place by what seemed to be a large, live, vampire bat.

“The Quibbler had been writing about England’s surefire defeat in the match since they announce the team would be playing a few months ago,” Luna piped up, lowering her Omnioculars to look over at Astoria. “England being allowed to play in the semi-finals was more of a courtesy, seeing as they are the hosts. Statistically speaking, the team isn’t nearly as skilled as Transylvania.”

Astoria shook her head in confusion. “I suppose that there is a point there. It’ll be fine, we’ve still got Wales, Scotland, and Ireland to cheer on.”

“Who would have thought we would lose that badly?” Draco puffed, scowling at nobody in particular. “390-10? Must be a national embarrassment.”

“Well, Draco,” Rosalind teased as she pinched him on the nose. “It’s a good thing you’re used to siding with the losing Quidditch team, eh?”

Draco drew away with a huff, glaring over at Stygian. “You know, I was just beginning to like your sister.”

“What did I do?!” Stygian cried out, throwing his hand in the air as Draco stalked away from them angrily, the giggles of Rosalind, Luna, and Astoria trailing after him.

Over the rest of the week, more and more familiar faces began arriving at the campsite. Harper Lee and his twin sister, Rachel Lee, Estelle and her charming older brother, who sadly hadn’t inherited their mothers magical abilities, Blaise Zabini and his famous actress mother, and Crabbe and Goyle with their respective families. Rosalind was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione the day before the final, and busied herself with meeting with as many familiar faces as possible in anticipation of her best friends’ arrival.

One memorable day was spent when Rosalind lost Stygian in the crowd headed towards the Luxembourg versus Scotland match, and was picked up by Marcus Flint and Miles Bletchley. She joined them and their large, extended families in their private box, excitedly taking the opportunity to try out the cold mead from Norway that allegedly allowed you to breath out snowflakes. Much to her delight, she spent the majority of the match tossing flimsy snowballs with and at Marcus and Bletchley, only stopping when Bletchley’s misaimed missile fell out of their box and onto the head of the referee, causing the match to come to a brief halt.

The final match of the Semi-Finals, Ireland versus Peru, was something to behold. Rosalind found it difficult to focus on the match at hand, and instead used her Omnioculars to zoom in on the Peru supporters. Many were dressed in traditional peruvian outfits, woven clothing in an entire rainbow of colors. A few were dressed in Peruvian national colors, and a surprising amount of llamas and alpacas were sitting amongst their owner’s families.

“Maybe we should go like him to the ball!” Rosalind yelled over the crowd to the ecstatic Stygian, gesturing towards a group in the box next to them.

Stygian gave them a horrified look. Through the reflection in his glasses Rosalind could see him staring at a man using a flag as a cape, with only a sequined speedo underneath. “Do you want to get us expelled?!”

Their amusement soon turned to excitement as the Irish team caught the golden snitch, putting them ahead of Peru by over a hundred points and sealing their place in the Quidditch World Cup Finals.

Finally, the day of the Weasley’s arrival had dawned upon them. Rosalind made sure to get up on time that morning and to eat a full breakfast. She was fully dressed in shorts and a green t-shirt, to show her team pride, and headed out the entrance to the tent by the time their portkey was supposed to arrive.

“See you at the match!” She yelled up the stairs to where Stygian may or may not have been listening before ducking out of the tent and into the morning sunlight. Last night she had successfully nagged one of her mother's coworkers, a man known to her and Stygian by Basil, for information regarding the Weasley’s arrival, and he had informed her that they would be on Robert’s Field, further away from the pitch, so that was where she headed.

Pushing her way through the crowded fields, Rosalind rushed past witches and wizards from all trots of life. There were small children chasing each other on toy broomsticks, vendors selling Ireland and Bulgaria merchandise, families roasting whole rabbits and pigs on spits in front of their poorly disguised magical tents. Her ears were overwhelmed with the different languages coming from every wizard that passed by, every new accent made her brain work hard to comprehend the cultural differences between them.

“Rosa?!”

Rosalind looked around at the sound of Harry’s voice, a grin spreading across her face. Ahead of her, standing in the queue for the water tap, were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She let out an excited shriek as she ran towards them, throwing her arms around Hermione, and then Harry.

Ron gave a snicker as Harry and Rosalind quickly let go of each other, their cheeks coloring as they looked away from each other.

“Shut up, Ronald,” Rosalind muttered, punching him in the arm.

“What, no hug for me?” He asked, innocently blinking over at her.

“You don’t deserve one.” Rosalind haughtily stuck her nose up in the air and turned away from Ron, turning back around a split second later to stick her tongue out at him.

“Oh, grow up you two,” Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes as Ron blew a raspberry at her.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Harry asked, elbowing her in the side as the line moved forward slightly.

“I came to welcome you guys to the field,” Rosalind smiled up at him. “I’ve been here for over week, waiting for you lot to show up.”

“Who else is here already?” Hermione piped up, smiling over at her.

Rosalind opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off abruptly by shouts from the two wizards in front of them. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

“Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap. You can’t walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate’s already getting suspicious —”

“I bought this in a Muggle shop,” said the old wizard stubbornly. “Muggles wear them.”

Hermione and Rosalind exchanged amused looks, both of them covering their mouths to keep from laughing.

“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ’round my privates, thanks.”

Hermione and Rosalind were overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles that they had to duck out of the queue and walk away a few feet to regain their composure before running back to help collect water.

Slowly, the four of them made their way to the Weasley’s campsite with the water. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of the old Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him, leaving Rosalind, Ron, and Hermione to tail after them awkwardly. Oliver told them excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, the Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at them, eyes fixated on Harry. He gave Rosalind an awkward look, cheeks reddening as he awkwardly waved back at Cho, spilling water down the front of his shirt.

“Can’t say you didn’t deserve that, mate,” Ron huffed, looking pointedly from Harry to Rosalind. Rosalind pretended not to notice, instead helping Hermione with her bucket of water.

“You’ve been ages,” said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys’ tents. “Hey, is that you, Rosa? Fred, look here!”

“Met a few people,” said Ron, setting the water down before grabbing Rosalind by the arm, pulling her in front of him. “Dad, look who’s here… You not got that fire started yet?”

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” said Fred, walking over to Rosalind and patting her on the head with a grin. “Nice to see you again, Black.”

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

“Oops!” he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

“Come here, Mr. Weasley,” said Hermione with a small smile, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

“Rosalind!” Arthur Weasley sat back with a sigh of relief as Hermione finally got their fire started, smiling kindly at Rosalind. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been mighty fine, Mr. Weasley,” Rosalind grinned down at the older man.

“Say, how long have you been here?”

“Over a week. Got to watch the Semi-Finals, it was quite a show.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Mr. Weasley laughed lightly, raising an eyebrow at her. “I suppose you’d like to know where Ginny is.”

Rosalind ducked her head sheepishly. “Yes, I would very much like to know where Ginny is.”

“Inside the tent,” Mr. Weasley jerked his head towards the first of two tents behind him. “I do believe she was playing exploding snap with her brothers.”

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Rosalind said sweetly, muttering to herself as she lifted the entrance to the first tent. “More brothers?”

Three ginger heads turned to look at Rosalind as she stepped into the enchanted tent, the inside of which was a three bedroom flat. The shortest of the group jumped up from the table they had been sitting at, an all too familiar grin spreading over her face as she ran at Rosalind with a war cry.

“Gin!” Rosalind laughed, accepting the eager hug from her friend.

“Rosa!” Ginny released her hug and immediately grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the table. “Come on, I’ve been waiting all summer to play with another girl.”

“Yes, because we all know Hermione is above games such as exploding snap.” Rosalind scoffed with a grin, looking up at the other two people at the table as she took a seat next to one of them, raising her eyebrow expectantly. “And you are?”

The nearer of the the two gave a light laugh and held out a large hand, which Rosalind shook, feeling calluses and blisters on his hand. “Charlie Weasley, dragon trainer. Ginny’s said a lot about you, Rosalind.”

Rosalind looked up at him, dumbstruck for one of the first times in her life. Charlie looked more like the twins than Ron, shorter and stockier than Ron or Percy. His face was good natured, weatherbeaten, and so freckly that he looked almost tan. As he drew his hand away from Rosalind, the light in the tent revealed a large, shiny burn going up the side. He was the very definition of awesome, and Rosalind couldn’t help but smile dopily as she looked up into his kind, blue, eyes.

A cough caught her attention, and Rosalind turned to face the other man. He reached forward with a very light smile, giving Rosalind's hand one, solid shake. “Bill Weasley, Curse Breaker.”

Bill looked as though he was headed for a rock concert. His hair was long, and tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing one earring that looked as if a fang was dangling from it, and his boots were made out of black dragonhide. As impressive as his getup was, Rosalind still couldn’t seem to stop looking back at Charlie.

“Well?” Ginny coaxed, elbowing Rosalind in the side. “What do you think of my brothers?”

“What do I think?” Rosalind gave Ginny an impressed look. “I think that it you looked up the word ‘cool’ in the dictionary, their pictures would be right next to it.”

Ginny let out a snort of laughter as the boys chuckled, Charlie’s deep laughter seemed to shake the air.

“I like your friend, Gin,” Charlie teased, patting Rosalind on the top of her head.

Rosalind looked up at him, a grin plastered on her face as she blinked sweetly at the older Weasley. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ginny snickering over at her, not entirely focused on the deck of cards she was shuffling. Winking over at them, she dealt out the cards, and they began to play.

All too soon the lighting inside the tent changed. Fred and George came into the tent to pull Ginny, Rosa, Charlie, and Bill away from their game for a quick bite. They chowed down eggs and sausage outside the tents, chatting in a loud group as vendors slowly began to appear amongst the tents, stock full of merchandise for both teams.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes — green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria — which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

Rosalind and Ron broke off from their group and ran off to a cart with figurines, gripping the money they had saved up over the summer. Ron already had a dancing shamrock hat perched on his red hair, but the two of them had one goal when it came to souvenirs.

“Victor Krum!” Rosalind squealed, holding her figurine as carefully as if she was holding a baby.

Beside her, Ron was looking down at his own miniature Victor, eyes so big he looked like a child on Christmas morning. Rosalind’s figurine was hovering on it’s tiny Firebolt, robes rustling in the wind. Ron’s walked backward and forward over his hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.

“Wow, look at these!” said Harry, pulling them over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

“Omnioculars,” said the saleswizard eagerly. “You can replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain — ten Galleons each.”

“They’re amazing,” Rosalind added, gesturing towards her own omnioculars hanging around her neck as the saleswizard gave her an approving beam. “They make following the matches a lot easier.”

“Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

“Three pairs,” said Harry firmly to the wizard, digging deep into his pouch of coins.

“No — don’t bother,” said Ron, going red. “Honestly, Harry.”

“You don’t need to pay for three yourself,” Hermione objected as Harry began pulling out coins.

“They’re right,” Rosalind objected, putting her hand on top of Harry’s. “You shouldn’t pay for three. You get two, for you and Ron, and I’ll get two, for Gin and ‘Mione.”

“Rosa,” Hermione objected as Rosalind handed over the coins to the saleswizard, who was looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“Not hearing it,” Rosalind dismissed Hermione, draping her Omnioculars around her neck.

“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry told Ron, thrusting Omnioculars into his hands. “For about ten years, mind.”

“Fair enough,” said Ron, grinning.

“Oooh, thanks, guys,” said Hermione, grinning around at them. “And I’ll get us some programs, look —”

Money bags considerably lighter, they regrouped at the Weasley’s tents with the rest of the group. Charlie, Bill, and Ginny had large green rosettes pinned onto the front of their shirts. Ginny had bought an extra for Rosalind, and the two swapped gifts eagerly.

“These are amazing!” Ginny gasped as she looked through the Omnioculars, pointing directly at Charlie’s face. “I can see your adult acne so clearly!”

Bill gave a hearty laugh and slapped Charlie on the back as he gawked at Ginny, the offended look on his face quickly being replaced with a genuine smile. Rosalind couldn’t keep from giggling as she looked around at them, aware that her gaze was lingering far too long on Charlie's perfect teeth.

All of a sudden a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path towards the looming Quidditch pitch.

“It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them as he jumped up from the ground and ushered the group forwards. “Come on, let’s go!”

Linking arms with Ginny, Rosalind followed Bill and Charlie closely as they followed the colorful lanterns in the direction of the audience. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Rosalind and Ginny kept exchanging crazed grins.

They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Ahead of them, Mr. Weasley called something back, his shout inaudible over the chanting of the Irishmen behind Rosalind.

“What?!” Rosalind pulled on the back of Bill’s shirt, yelling over the roars coming from inside the stadium. “What did he say?!”

“Seats a hundred thousand!” Bill called back, a grin plastered onto his rugged face.

“That’s top box!” Rosalind grinned and squeezed Ginny’s arm. “Maybe you guys are next to us now!”

Ginny gave her a confused smile. “Now?”

“A lot of the delegates from the competing teams have left since they lost the semi-finals,” Rosalind explained as a Ministry worker directed their group and towards a staircase. “We were wondering who would be filling in all the empty seats in the box.”

Ginny tried to respond, but the noise amongst the tide of people headed up the stairs, as well as the thunder of steps going up the stairs, cut her off. She settled with a smile at Rosalind as they followed the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right.

Soon enough they entered the prestigious Top Box. Stygian, who was already waiting in their seats, jumped up and waved excitedly as their party came up to the velvet purple seats. Harry and Ron gave him a wave before taking their seats in the first row, followed by Bill and Charlie. Rosalind gave Ginny a smile and a peck on the cheek before skipping up the steps to Stygian, squeezing into their seat next to him.

“Have a good time?” Stygian teased, nudging Rosalind in the side as he glanced meaningfully down at Harry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rosalind scoffed, rolling her eyes and nudging him back. “You excited?”

“Incredibly.” Stygian bounced in his seat as he looked across the enormous stadium, eyes sweeping across the golden stands. “Think we’ll see Draco?”

“He wouldn’t miss this.” Rosalind turned towards the entrance to the box, squinting as she watched people slowly trickle in.

Over the next half hour, familiar faces poured into the box alongside them. Many Ministry workers came by, greeting the Black children with respectful nods as they searched for their seats. Their mother’s boss, and Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, gave Stygian a good hearted slap on the back and Rosalind a cool nod. Rosalind couldn’t help but giggle at the jealous looks Percy Weasley kept throwing at them. They shook hands with the Bulgarian Prime Minister, who had tailed Fudge into the box, and relished in eavesdropping on Fudge’s desperate attempt to communicate with the Minister, despite their language barrier.

Raising an eyebrow, Rosalind turned to Stygian. “Is mom going to be watching the match with us this time?”

“Please,” Stygian scoffed, gesturing down at the field. “One glance through your Omnioculars and you can see her micromanaging the ref.”

Putting the Omnioculars up the her eyes, Rosalind fiddled with the dials to zoom in on the bustling wizards preparing the field down below. Surely enough, Primrose was standing alongside the referee, Hassan Mostafa, holding out the incredibly large rulebook for Quidditch and quizzing him on the most mundane of rules. Mostafa didn’t at all seem to be enjoying the experience, and kept glancing at his watch or twirling his mustache.

“What a nightmare,” Rosalind huffed, lowering the Omnioculars with frown.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” an unfortunately familiar voice sounded from down the row.

“Draco!” Stygian jumped up with a grin, looking over at the Malfoy family as they made their way down the row of seats towards them. “You made it!”

“Mister Black, lovely to see you,” Narcissa Malfoy said sweetly as she pinched Stygian’s cheek with a smile. Her face quickly dropped as she looked over at Rosalind. “Miss Black.”

“Narcissa,” Rosalind crossed her arms and lifted her chin, pointedly refusing to move her legs to make space for the Malfoy family to get back. Lucius Malfoy threw her a dirty look before squeezing past with Narcissa on his heels.

Draco took a seat on the other side of Stygian, squinting back at the entrance. “Hey, is that Zabini?”

Whirling around, Rosalind made eye contact with Blaise as he entered the top box, looking around the jumble of seats.

Jumping out of her seat, Rosalind waved till she caught his attention. “Blaise, hey!”

Blaise Zabini maintained a nonchalant expression as he walked up to them, crossing his arms cooly. “Rosa, is your offer still open?”

“What offer?” Stygian looked at Rosalind, confused.

“I guessed mom wouldn’t make it to the match,” Rosalind explained as she took her seat once again, gesturing at Blaise to sit down next to her, “so, I offered Blaise a better seat than the one he has. Better seat, and better company!”

“Welcome, mate,” Stygian grinned over at Blaise as he took a seat next to Rosalind. “Glad to have you with us.”

“Thank you,” Blaise sid formally before turning towards the pitch, raising his Omnioculars to his eyes. “Quite a view you lot have up here.”

“You just wait till the game starts,” Rosalind said with a grin. “That’s when the real show starts.”

At that moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box, face slightly pink as nervous beads of sweat rolled down the side.

“Everyone ready?” he said, looking around the box eagerly. “Minister — ready to go?”

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said “Sonorus!” and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. A huge blackboard opposite them wiped clear and read BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0 in illuminated golden letters.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval as twirling silver figures leapt out onto the field. On either side of Rosalind, the boys eagerly lifted up their Omnioculars and let out small cries of disbelief.

“Blimey,” Draco’s admiring mutter made Rosalind roll her eye’s and turn to Blaise, only to find him with his Omnioculars glued to his face and jaw hanging open as he gawked down at the field.

Exchanging a bemused glance with Stygian, Rosalind put the Omnioculars up to her face and zoomed in on the creatures on the field as music began to blast play from around the stadium. The creatures, breathtaking ladies that seemed to radiate moonlight, were dancing across the field. Their white hair seemed to turn golden as it effortlessly fanned out behind them. They danced to the rhythm of the music, faster and faster as the tempo sped up. Rosalind couldn’t help but envy them, she so desperately wanted to be them.

“Hey!”

Stygians shout brought Rosalind back to the present, and she gave him an irritated glance. “What?”

Stygian nudged Draco in the side and gestured down at the creatures. “Those Veela look a lot like you, don’t you think?”

Rosalind and Blaise made disgusted expressions as Draco gave an offended gasp, running his hand through his white blonde hair.

“I didn’t think anyone could ruin Veela for me,” Blaise said wistfully, throwing a dirty look over at Stygian as he raised the Omnioculars back to his eyes.

“Well, he just did,” Rosalind grumbled as she followed suite, watching quietly over the angry yelling that filled the stadium as the Veela’s time ran out, and they were escorted over to the side of the stadium to make room for the opposing team.

“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arched suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it, coming from the hands of little men in green and red vests.

“Leprechauns!” Rosalind laughed excitedly, jumping up and catching a handful of gold out of the air.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

“Ivanova!”

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — Krum!”

Rosalind jumped out of her seat, bouncing up and down and screeching as she followed the red clad Seeker with her Omnioculars. The thick eyebrows on his angular face were knit together in concentration as he sped after his team, coming to a halt alongside them at their end of the field and confidently raising his chin up, dark eyes sweeping over the crowd.

Lowering her Omioculars for a second, Rosalind exchanged an excited glance with Ron, who was chanting Krums name excitedly further down the box.

“Sit down,” Stygian snapped, grabbing hold of Rosalind’s arm and pulling her into her chair. “They’re bringing out the Irish team!”

“And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!” yelled Ludo, sweeping his arm extravagantly to the other end of the field.. “Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!”

Seven green blurs swept onto the field, circling the pitch before grouping together on the end of the field with overcrowded, green, stands. Stygian gave an excited whoop from Rosalind’s side, and even Blaise managed to give a few excited claps.

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

Rosalind and Stygian chortled as they watched their mother shove Mostafa out onto the field. He strode out onto the middle of the field, a silver whistle protruding from under the mustache. He was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Rosalind watched closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open — four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and, spotted for the fraction of a second, the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

“Theeeeeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Ludo. “And it’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!”

It was the most intensive game of Quidditch Rosalind had ever seen. She could barely keep up with all the action; following the Quaffle with her Omnioculars, reading the quick notes provided on the viewing screen, and watching the Seekers search for the golden snitch. Everything was moving so fast, the Irish teams Hawkshead Formation, the Porskoff Ploy, diving, turning, ducking from bludgers, and—

“TROY SCORES!” roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. “Ten zero to Ireland!”

Cheering and jumping up and down, too excited to stay in her seat, Rosalind dropped the Omnioculars from her eyes to watch Troy fly a victory lap around the stadium. The leprechauns watching from the sidelines rose into the air and formed a massive green shamrock in the sky.

“Will you sit down?!” Blaise snapped from her side as her hand waved in front of his Omnioculars.

“Will you stand up?!” Rosalind laughed, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him out of the seat.

Blaise allowed himself to stand up stiffly next to Rosalind, freezing up when she grabbed his hand and put it up in the air, cheering loudly. Within the next ten minutes Ireland had scored twice more, and it didn’t take long for Blaise to start hoarsely cheering beside her.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria’s first goal.

Music began to play, drawing their attention once again to the Veela; they had risen from their side of the field and begun to dance in celebration, slender limbs seemingly beckoning them closer. Rosalind couldn’t help but cheer for Bulgaria as she watched the Veela on the field, confused by the feelings of longing and envy that clawed at her stomach until the music faded, and the whizzing of brooms drew her attention to the sky once again.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes.

“Aren’t they going to crash?!” Blaise gasped in Rosalind’s ear.

“Only one of them,” Rosalind said with a smirk, following the diving Krum intently.

“What?”

She pulled away from her Omnioculars for a moment to look over at Blaise. “You haven’t been to a lot of these, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

Rosalind directed his attention to the match, where at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

“Idiot!” Draco called out, shaking his fist down to where the injured Lynch was being tended to by mediwizards. “He was clearly feinting!”

“Wow,” Blaise breathed, not taking his eyes from the field. “What was that?”

“The Wronski Feint,” Rosalind piped up eagerly. “It’s one of the most dangerous Quidditch stunts ever invented.”

“One of?” Draco scoffed, leaning past Stygian to butt into the conversation. “It IS the most dangerous Quidditch stunt ever invented. Your timing has to be perfect to be able to pull up in time, and you need to look convincing enough that the other seeker thinks you’ve actually got the snitch.”

“Draco knows so much because he’s never been able to pull it off,” Stygian teased, shoving Draco in the side. Draco shoved him back, and the two began wrestling awkwardly in their neighboring seats.

“Boys,” Rosalind rolled her eyes at Blaise and turned back to face the pitch.

“Tell me about it,” Blaise gave a overdramatic scoff and stuck his nose in the air, crossing his arms sassily.

Rosalind gave a giggle, bumping Blaise in the shoulder with her own. “You’re alright, Zabini.”

Blaise gave her a snide smirk, but his eyes were soft as he looked from her to the field.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything Rosalind had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Rosalind didn’t catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa’s long, shrill whistle blast, told her it had been a foul.

“And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing —excessive use of elbows!” Bagman informed the roaring spectators. “And — yes, it’s a penalty to Ireland!”

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words “HA, HA, HA!” The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

Stygian was the only one of them not distracted by the dancing, and elbowed Rosalind in the side.

“Look at the referee!” he said, snickering.

Rosalind turned to look, giggling alongside her brother. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

“Now, we can’t have that!” said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. “Somebody slap the referee!”

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Rosalind, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

“And unless I’m much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!” said Bagman’s voice. “Now there’s something we haven’t seen before. . . . Oh this could turn nasty. . . .”

It did. The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words “HEE, HEE, HEE.” Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians’ arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

“Two penalties for Ireland!” shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. “And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms . . . yes . . . there they go . . . and Troy takes the Quaffle . . .”

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Foul!” roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

“Foul!” echoed Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified voice. “Dimitrov skins Moran — deliberately flying to collide there — and it’s got to be another penalty — yes, there’s the whistle!”

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through her Omnioculars, Rosalind saw that they didn’t look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders-

Rosalind gave a cry and stumbled back against the seat behind her, grabbing hold of Stygian to stop herself from falling over.

“What?” Stygian looked down at her. “What happened?”

“Veela…” Rosalind huffed, letting go of his arm and rubbing her eyes with her hands. “Merlin, I’m going to have nightmares.”

“That’s why you should never go after looks alone,” Blaise grumbled.

“You’re a hypocrite, you know that?” Stygian laughed, throwing a crumpled up piece of his program at Blaise.

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success, but the real action was taking place in the air above them.

“Levski — Dimitrov — Moran — Troy — Mullet — Ivanova — Moran again — Moran — MORAN SCORES!”

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members’ wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game commenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov —

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum’s nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn’t blow his whistle. He had become distracted, one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Rosalind watched Krum recenter himself through the Omnioculars, praying that he wouldn’t be taken off of the field. He was the most interesting player of the entire tournament; smart, brave, skilled, brooding-

Stygian broke Rosalind’s train of thought by yelling directly into her ear. “Look at Lynch!”

The Irish seeker had gone into a sharp and sudden dive, plummeting downwards at a dizzying speed. One look at his concentrated face proved that this was no Wronski Feint, this was the real deal.

“He’s seen the snitch!” Rosalind squealed, jumping up and down excitedly.

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on, but Krum was on his tail. Rosalind had no clue how he could see where he was going, there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again —

“They’re going to crash!” Stygian gasped.

“They’re not!” roared Draco.

“Lynch is!” yelled Rosalind.

And she was right — for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

“The Snitch, where’s the Snitch?” bellowed Draco, shoving Stygian to the side as he leaned over to get a better look at Krum.

“He’s got it — Krum’s got it — it’s all over!” shouted Rosalind, her voice cracking from overuse.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn’t seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”

“What did he catch the Snitch for?” Blaise scoffed, applauding politely amongst the jubilant crowd. “He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!”

“He knew they were never going to catch up!” Rosalind shouted back over all the noise, applauding loudly. “The Irish Chasers were too good. He wanted to end it on his terms!.”

“Smart move, for a quidditch player!” Stygian laughed, elbowing Draco in the side.

Blaise sighed and looked over at Rosalind, a tired glint in his eyes. “I’m never going to understand Quidditch.”

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Rosalind had said her goodbyes to the Weasley party in the top box before the crowd separated them, giving Harry and Ginny lingering hugs before joining Stygian, Draco, and Blaise and heading in the direction of their tent. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they followed the lantern-lit paths away from the stadium. Leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns.

Rosalind gave a whoop as they passed a celebrating quartet of Irishmen drinking and playing songs on their fiddles. She grabbed Blaise and Stygian by the arms and dragged them over to the strangers campsite, joining a group of people already dancing by the instruments. It only took a few moments for Stygian to get into the groove, coaxing Draco over to join them. Blaise took a little more convincing, but after two minutes of Rosalind holding onto him and spinning he broke his uptight attitude and allowed himself a smile.

They wandered from party to party for several, long hours. Many people were setting off fireworks that danced across the sky in shades of green. Some of the more intricate ones even displayed fizzing and popping green Quidditch players doing barrel rolls across the sky. The ministry wizards were being put through the wringer, maintaining the muggle caretakers ignorance of the obvious magical displays of victory was proving to be near impossible.

As the night grew a few shades lighter, the four of them wandered back to the Quidditch Stadium. They climbed back into the top box, looking out from the back at the numerous firework displays, shooting leprechauns, and celebrating wizards while talking amongst themselves. Rosalind was sandwiched between Stygian and Blaise, her head drooping lower and lower onto her brother’s shoulder as the day caught up with her and her eyelids grew heavier, and heavier…

“Rosa… Hey, Rosa!”

Blaise’s voice whispering in her ear woke Rosalind from her sleep.

“What’re you lot up to?” She mumbled, jaws stretching into a wide yawn as she sat up from where she had been lying on the floor.

“Shush!”

Rosalind turned at the sound of Stygian’s voice, ready to glare at her brother for trying to shush her. But when her eyes met his, and she saw the worry gleaming in his eyes, she grew worried herself.

“What’s going on?” She whispered, sliding over to where he was crouching with Draco by the wall.

Stygian gestured over the side of the top box, the side facing out towards the rest of the field. Rosalind stood up, warily looking over the wooden side of the stadium. Below them, a large group of black cloaked wizards were marching in a single file line out of the stadium and towards the campsites. Many had their wands raised, several of them ignited with ominous, green flames.

“Bloody hell,” Rosalind whispered, raising her Omnioculars to her eyes. Though the match was over, they still worked fine. She switched the dials to night vision and zoomed in on the dark wizards. Some of them were turning to talk to each other, revealing intricate masks that covered their faces.

“What is this? Redemption day?” Draco snorted as Rosalind lowered her Omnioculars. “Do they honestly think they’re scaring anyone?”

“I don’t know…” Stygian gave Rosalind a worried look, her own fears reflecting in his eyes. Was their mother down there?

“Maybe,” Rosalind swallowed and looked back at the cloaks, “maybe we should tell someone?”

“Who?” Blaise’s voice was sarcastic, but his perfect eyebrows were knit together in worry. “What would we tell them.”

“I have an idea,” Rosalind muttered, looking over at Stygian. “You got your wand?”

Stygian nodded, drawing his wand in sync with Rosalind. “What were you thinking?”

“Are you two crazy?” Blaise hissed, grabbing hold of Rosalind's arm.

“Verdimillious,” Rosalind yanked her arm away from Blaise and looked into her brothers eyes. “On the count of three?”

Stygian nodded and stuck his wand in the air. “One.”

“You can’t be serious,” Blaise whispered angrily, ducking down and putting his hands over his head.

“Two,” Rosalind gave Blaise a weary smile as she lifted her own wand into the air.

“My father will be absolutely furious if I’m killed for this,” Draco hissed, ducking behind one of the chairs.

There was no need for the two of them to say three out loud. Rosalind and Stygian raised their wands simultaneously, pointing them out towards the campsites.

“Verdimillious!”

At once, sparks shot from the ends of their wands and out into the night. It had been over an hour and a half since the Ministry had finally put a stop to all the fireworks, so they went uninterrupted across the sky. It only took a few moments for campsites to light up as wizards and witches alike woke in what they hoped to be a continuing celebration, confused shouts filling the air

“What was that?”

“It came from up there!”

“Okay, they’re warned,” Blaise hissed, grabbing Rosalind by the back of her shirt and dragging her towards the staircase. “Now let’s go and hide before they catch us!”

“Hide?” Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not hiding from the likes of them.”

“Are you crazy?” Stygian hissed, grabbing Draco by the arm and pulling him towards the door.

Draco wouldn’t budge. “They wouldn’t dare hurt me, my father wouldn’t take it.”

“Do you think they really care about who your father is?!” Rosalind snapped as Draco yanked his arm away from Stygian and backed away. “Come ON, Draco!”

“Guys?”

Rosalind ignored Blaise and grabbed hold of Draco’s arm while Stygian got behind him and began to push. “Stop being so stubborn! We stand a better chance together!”

“GUYS.”

Rosalind let go of Draco and spun around to glare at Blaise. “What?!”

Blaise put his fingers to his lips and pointed out the entrance to the top box. Footsteps were echoing up the staircase, accompanied by angry shouts.

“Son of a—” Rosalind turned to Draco, glaring daggers at him. “Fine, stay here if you want. Stygian, my broom?”

Stygian gave a curt nod, pointing his wand into the air. “Accio Firebolt!”

A strong gust of wind came out of nowhere, pushing on the top box so hard that it swayed backwards in the breeze. A split second later, Rosalind's Firebolt had shot up from the distant campsites, where the line of cloaked figures had approached and begun to set ablaze, and into Stygian’s hand.

“Brilliant!” Blaise gasped as Stygian tossed Rosalind her broom, and she effortlessly caught it in her hand.

“Careful, Stygian!” Draco hissed, grabbing Stygian by the arm. “The ministry will take your wand away if you perform one more spell!”

“Lucky us,” Stygian grinned at Rosalind. “Well if you don’t mind, I’ll meet you down there. I’m not good at flying.”

“Wait, you’re really leaving me?” Draco yelped, jumping slightly as a shout echoed up the staircase.

Rosalind swung a leg over her Firebolt. “Yup. Blaise, get on.”

Blaise gave Draco a patronizing look before climbing onto the broomstick behind Rosalind, clutching her shoulders tightly.

“Don’t leave me!” Draco yelped, jumping after them as Rosalind brought the Firebolt a few feet up in the air.

Rosalind gave an exasperated groan and looked at Stygian. “Fine, stay with him, Mothman.”

Stygian winked up at Rosalind. “Consider me a fly, er, moth on the wall.”

Giving the two boys a nod, Rosalind urged the Firebolt forward, shooting out towards the campsite with Blaise clutching tightly onto her.

Below them was chaos.

By the light of the few fires that were steadily burning across the grounds, they could see people running away into the woods, fleeing the cluster of robed wizards that was moving across the field toward them, emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting up toward them.

“Bloody hell,” Blaise whispered into her ear as they surveyed the scene in front of them.

High above the ground, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

Rosalind squinted. “Those aren’t—”

“People?” Blaise let one hand fall off Rosalind's shoulder as he used his Omnioculars to zoom in on them. “Looks like they are. They’re only muggles, thank Merlin.”

“Thank Merlin?”

“Well… it would be a lot more problematic if they were actually wizards, wouldn't it?”

Rosalind seethed and dipped her Firebolt down to the ground, coming to a screeching halt at the edge of the woods. Around them, witches and wizards were fleeing with their families in the direction of the portkeys.

“What are you doing?” Blaise demanded, giving the end of the Firebolt a kick. “Take us back up!”

“I’m not going to tolerate your discriminatory talk,” Rosalind snapped.

“For Merlin— Fine! I’m sorry!”

“Sorry isn’t good enough.”

Rosalind leaned back, pushing Blaise away and sending the broom upside down. He fell off and landed on the ground with a dull thud, looking up at her desperately as she hovered above him.

“You can walk to the Portkeys,” Rosalind snapped, giving Blaise one last glare before taking off into the sky.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. The marchers would blast a tent out of their way with their wand, catching many of them on fire as the screaming grew louder.

Flying closer to the levitating bodies in the air, Rosalind gasped as she realized that two of them were children, not much younger than her. One was a woman, hanging upside down so that her nightgown revealed her drawers, much to the pleasure of the cloaked figures below her. The last figure was a man, whos glazed eyes seemed like they had seen one too many curses over the past week.

“You’ve got to help them,” Rosalind whispered to herself, positioning her Firebolt to line up with the youngest of the hovering children. Darting forward, she put on an extra burst of speed as she sped across the sky, scooping the child out of the sky and wrapping her arm around him to keep him steady on the broom.

“Are you alright?!” She shouted at the kid, flying lower to the ground.

He opened his mouth to respond, but never got the chance as a spell collided with end of the Firebolt, knocking them off course. They plummeting into a tent, the fabric cushioning their fall as it folded beneath them.

Jeers and laughter swirled around Rosalind as she struggled up, clutching her Firebolt in one hand as she did her best to stand in between the kid and the oncoming wizards.

“Hello there, little lady!”

“Think you can just steal our toy?”

“You’re a pureblood, ain’t ya? Think you could keep this pet all to yourself?”

Rosalind pulled out her wand and pointed it at the nearest cloaked figure. “Stay back!”

The figure disarmed Rosalind with a flick of their wand, sending her own flying several meters away. Rosalind immediately dove after it, dropping the Firebolt in her haste, but the cloaked figure caught her by the arm and held her back, forcing her to watch as the other members of their group got hold of the muggle boy again and sent him flying into the air, screaming, tears running down his face as he searched the ground for Rosalind.

“You can’t do this!” Rosalind screamed, struggling in her captors clutches.

“I have to do this!” The figure hissed, its voice hauntingly familiar. “You can, too! It’s my way to feel close to him again, to belong, again. If you and your brother joined us, we could all be together! For the first time!”

It was almost too easy to piece it all together, though it chilled Rosalind to the bone that one of her worst fears were coming true.

Yanking her arm away from the cloaked figure, Rosalind turned to face it as the rest of the group thronged around them, momentarily cutting them off from the destruction going on all around.

“Mother… come on, mom… You can’t be serious…”

Slowly and deliberately, the figure reached its hands up toward its face to take off its mask and look down at Rosalind. She froze as she looked up into her mother’s eyes, the same green eyes she had inherited. Fear seeped into her bones, and her stomach clenched into an untangleable knot.

“Why?” Rosalind's voice cracked, eyes growing hot with tears as her mother cooly gazed back at her.

“This is where we belong, Rosalind,” Primrose Black said cooly, putting her mask back on her face. “Your father believed in this cause. When I am here, amongst my family, it feels like he’s still here with us. And soon, we’ll be complete! Soon the Dark Lord will return, and bring an end to those who stand in his way.”

“All those who—” Rosalind bristled, taking a step away from her mother. “You mean, Harry?”

Suddenly, the throng of cloaks around them broke into screams, picking up speed as they ran towards the ends of the field. Behind them, protruding from the woods in a blaze of glowing, green, smoke, was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As Rosalind watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Primrose gave a sigh and put her hand on Rosalind’s trembling shoulder. “I know you are close to the Potter boy, but—”

“No buts,” Rosalind snapped, slapping her mother's arm and backing slowly away. “This is crazy, you’re crazy! And you’re more than crazy to think that I would let any one of you hurt Harry Potter! I swear, Mother, I swear I would do anything it took to protect him. Even if it meant killing you.”

Primrose paused and stared at Rosalind, a stunned expression painted onto her face for just a moment before growing into an amused smile. She began to laugh, first a light, steady giggle that escalated into crazed, heaving guffaws.

“You stupid child!” She gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, you naïve, stupid child.”

Lifting up her hand, she drew her mask over her face once again, covering the familiar face behind it. She loomed over Rosalind, staring down at her through the black slits in the mask.

“Rosa!”

Blaise’s voice caused Rosalind to snap away from her crazy mother, worriedly looking in the direction it had come from. In her moment of hesitation, Primrose faded away into the quickly disappearing crowd of maniacs and fleeing wizards.

“Are you okay?” Blaise gasped, running up to Rosalind and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Rosalind? Did they hurt you?”

Rosalind shook her head fervently, her breath coming out in quick, shallow breaths as if she was going into shock.

“Come on!” Blaise urged, wrapping his arm around her and guiding her in the direction of the woods. “We need to get to the portkeys!”

Rosalind hastily grabbed her Firebolt and wand from the depths of the collapsed tent, allowing Blaise to hurriedly usher her away from the stadium and the enormous scull in the sky.

“I saw you get shot down after you left me. Black you didn’t honestly think you could save that muggle, did you?”

Rosalind choked on her own sobs, eyes welling up with so many burning tears that it became hard to see where she was going.

“Nevermind that, we’ll find Draco and Stygian, and get you guys back home,” Blaise said calmly in an attempt to soothe Rosalind's hysterics.

“No!” Rosalind gasped, grabbing hold of Blaise by the arm. “No, we can’t!”

“Can’t what?” Blaise looked at her worriedly. “Can’t find them?”

“We can’t go home, I can’t go home,” Rosalind said much too quickly. Her nails were digging into Blaise’s arm for dear life as they stumbled past the woods that lead to the portkeys.

“What?”

“She’ll kill us, Blaise. Oh, Merlin, she’s going to kill me, she’ll kill me! She’ll kill—”

“Rosalind!” Blaise stopped walking and grabbed hold of Rosalind by each shoulder. “No one is trying to kill you!”

Rosalind grabbed hold of both of Blaise’s shoulders. “But she is, Blaise! She’s one of them! We won’t join her, so she’ll kill us!”

“Wow, wow, slow down.”

“Rosa?” Stygian’s voice came from the shadows.

Rosalind and Blaise both turned as Stygian and Draco stepped out of the dark woods, wands clenched tightly in their hands.

“What happened to you lot?” Blaise huffed, letting go of Rosalind's shoulders to cross his arms.

“I told you they wouldn’t hurt me,” Draco said with a satisfied smirk. “Took one look at me, all alone in the top box, and offered to hide me in the woods till it was safe to go to the portkey.”

“All alone in the topbox?” Blaise looked over at Stygian suspiciously. “Where were you?”

“Hiding, obviously, but forget about what we were doing it,” Stygian snapped, walking over to Rosalind and shining a light into her eyes, ignoring Blaise as he continued to eye him. “Why is my little sister convinced somebody is trying to kill us?”

“You heard that?” Rosalind said weakly, trembling like a leaf.

“Yeah…” Stygian gave a sigh and looked back at the field, where the ominous skull was still hanging in the sky. “So… was mother with them?”

Rosalind broke into tears, nodding aggressively before burying her face into Stygian’s shoulder, sobbing.

“She wants us to join, Styg, she wants us! She’s going to kill Harry, they’re going to kill him!”

“Good riddance,” Draco muttered from further away.

Through her tear ridden eyes Rosalind glimpsed Blaise frown at Draco and stomp angrily onto his foot, leaving Draco to bounce on one leg, swearing angrily at him.

“We can’t go home,” Rosalind’s voice cracked as she pulled away from Stygian. “Styg, it’s not safe.”

“Hey, come room with us,” Draco offered, gingerly placing his foot on the ground. “The manor’s huge.”

“Your parents are involved in this too,” Rosalind hissed, shaking her head.

“Thank you, Draco,” Stygian sighed, wrapping one arm around Rosalind. “But she’s got a point. Our parents are too close, unless you really think I’m so stupid thatI wouldn’t figure out why those masked freaks spared you.”

Draco gave a huff, crossing his arms and kicking angrily at the dirt.

“My mom’s not around much, so we have plenty of space at our place,” Blaise spoke up, taking a step closer to Stygian. “We’ve got a few spare rooms, you two would be welcome to stay as long as you need to, even if thats till school starts.”

Stygian looked expectantly down at Rosalind. “Well?”

Rosalind sniffled and gave her nose a self conscious wipe. “What about all our stuff?”

“I can sneak in and get our things when we know mom will be at work,” Stygian smiled, rubbing Rosalind’s back supportively. “Once we’ve actually slept we can talk about this some more.”

“I’m not going back there,” Rosalind murmured, shaking her head. “You can’t make me.”

A sudden bang and shouting echoed across the field towards them, causing the four of them to jump.

“Alright, talk later, Portkey now!” Draco yelped, tearing across in the direction of the portkeys.

Stygian and Blaise exchanged a glance before each grabbing hold of one of Rosalind's arms and following their blonde friend, the green skull painted across the night sky watching them get further, and further away.


	15. Familiar

The few weeks they spent at Blaise’s were unnotable. After some heated discussion and upset between the siblings, Stygian managed to recruit Draco, who in turn recruited Crabbe and Goyle, into sneaking into the Black’s home to grab their things, with Crabbe and Goyle carrying the most between the four. Draco informed them that Primrose had been stopped by Malfoy Manor for a rather long tea with his parents. They had summoned Draco in at the end of the session, asking about the location of the Black siblings. He had cracked, and told them where Stygian and Rosalind were hiding, but thankfully Primrose didn’t pop by the Zabini’s unsupervised apartment to check up on them.

Rosalind slept restlessly for a week, waking up in a cold sweat as she worried about the four figures floating about the angry mob, again and again, blaming it on sleeping in an unfamiliar place to Stygian. She found newspapers in the trash which revealed the discovery of two muggle adults and two muggle children, found broken and cold in a ditch. She slept better the nights leading up to Hogwarts, keeping comforting letters from Harry, Ginny, and the rest of her friends under her pillow, ready to put the summer out of her mind.

Once she was back on board the comfortingly familiar Hogwarts Express, Rosalind spent only an hour and a half with the Slytherins in their compartment, staying just long enough to catch up with Astoria, Blaise, Harper, and Rachel, before heading off in search of Harry Potter. She bumped into more familiar faces along her search, getting caught up in a game of exploding snap with Colin, Estelle, Ginny, and Luna, getting an opportunity to meet— 

“Dennis! Dennis Creevey!” Dennis shook Rosalind's much too viciously.

“Nice to meet—”

“Nice to meet you too! Rosalind Black, eh? Colin’s told me all about you!”

Rosalind gave Ginny an amused look. “Well, you can definitely see the family resemblance.”

Dennis won their round of exploding snap, and Rosalind excused herself to further continue her search for the Golden Trio. She hadn’t heard much from them since the Quidditch World Cup, besides the two letters from Harry and Ginny, but she hadn’t known how to respond to them, just kept them tucked away alongside the rest of the letters from her friends under her pillow.

Blaise had gladly hosted her and Stygian for the remaining two and a half weeks of summer vacation, introducing them to more of him than they had ever hoped to learn. Blaise Zabini turned out to be an aspiring chef and generally great guy once you got past his moodiness. He definitely seemed to enjoy their company, seeing that he usually had so little. His mother was an infamous witch, known for her beauty. She had made a fortune by marrying several rich wizards in her lifetime, each one who died under mysterious circumstances and left her with a surprising inheritance. The resentment Blaise felt towards his mother was never addressed out loud, but it was more than visible in the anger in his voice whenever he talked about her.

Stygian had spoken with their mother, going directly to the Ministry of Magic so as to avoid her making a scene. She, of course, denied her involvement the night of the Quidditch World Cup to her favorite child, but wouldn’t dare demand he return home in front of her co workers. Stygian was hesitant to believe what Rosalind said was entirely true, not wanting to think badly of his own mother, but he couldn’t deny that she was up to something. He even agreed to help tutor Harry in defensive spells, should the time come when they would need that.

As she wandered the train, Rosalind's couldn’t help but notice that the same students who at the end of the previous year where whispering about her behind her back, were now beaming and calling out greetings to her as she passed by their compartments. Parvati Patil smiled and waved as Rosalind crept by her fellow Gryffindor, though her friend Lavender Brown simply nodded and gave a polite, “Black.”

It seemed as though ‘Black’ was Rosalind's new nickname, and surprisingly enough it wasn’t being said with any hint of venom. The Weasley twins, accompanied by their friend Lee Jordan, cheered Rosalind’s last name and gave her fist bumps, attempting to coax her into their compartment for a look at Lee’s spider. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan shouted it and gave her high fives as she passed by where they were sitting with Neville and some Hufflepuff fourth years. Even Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, members of the Quidditch team, called out to Rosalind by her last name and urged her to try out for the team. 

It was a welcome surprise to see the change of heart most students seem to have had towards Rosalind over the summer. It made her feel warm inside that maybe for the first time in several generations, people were saying her family's last name in a positive manner. Maybe the surname ‘Black’ would lose it’s negative connotation with this generation.

When Rosalind finally found the compartment Hermione, Ron, and Harry had claimed, Rosalind threw her arms around each one of them, her long hug with Harry not going unnoticed by the sniggering Ron.

“You,” she hissed, leaning away from Harry and looking him in the eyes. “You’re not leaving my sight this year.”

“Okay?” Harry gave a confused laugh, putting an arm around Rosalind as she stole a chocolate cauldron from Ron, shoving it into her mouth. “I can’t be too mad about that, I suppose. Any sense in asking why?”

“Nope,” Rosalind mumbled around the cake, shaking her head.

At the moment the compartment door slid open, revealing Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom. Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking “Troy — Mullet — Moran!” but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. The boys all greeted each other with high fives and slaps on the back before settling down to talk about the events of the Quidditch World Cup.

“Box right next to mine, it was!” Dean said eagerly, waving his hands in the air. “Never thought Krum would pull up in time, but he did!”

“Lynch sure didn’t,” Seamus laughed, throwing himself against the wall. “Slammed into the ground, just like that!”

“Only thirty times harder,” Rosalind laughed as Seamus sat back down on the bench opposite of her and Harry.

After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm, practicing with Rons half forgotten snacks.

Neville listened jealousy to the others’ conversation as they relived the Cup match. 

“Gran didn’t want to go,” he said miserably. “Wouldn’t buy tickets. It sounded amazing though.” 

“It was,” said Ron. “Look at this, Neville. . . .” 

He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum. 

“Hey!” Rosalind laughed and elbowed Ron in the side, pulling her own miniature Krum out of her pocket and displaying it for them to see. 

The two Krums glared at each other from opposing hands as Ron and Rosalind high fived.

“You enjoy Quidditch, eh?” Dean said with a smirk at Rosalind, taking a seat next to her.

“Duh,” Rosalind rolled her eyes, grinning. “Harry’s not the only one with a Firebolt.”

“Maybe if she took up Quidditch she wouldn’t feel the need to punch me so much,” Ron said teasingly, winking at Rosalind as the Krum in his hand crossed his arms.

Rosalind smirked and punched Ron in the arm.

“See what I mean?” Ron said with a laugh, rolling his eyes at the rest of the boys. “Gimme your hand, Neville.”

“Oh wow,” said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand. 

“We saw him right up close, as well,” said Ron. “We were in the Top Box —” 

“For the first and last time, Weasley.”

Rosalind groaned at the familiar, snobby voice, turning to glare at the compartment entrance. “What do you want, Draco?”

Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind Draco Malfoy like a pair of guard dogs. Their intimidating aura faded quickly as they realized who Rosalind was, and both of them lit up with smiles and began waving excitedly. Draco had to grab both of them by the arms and glare for them to regain their cool, no doubt feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” said Harry coolly, crossing his arms.

“Weasley . . . what is that?” said Draco, pointing at Ron’s owl’s cage. A sleeve of a rather ancient looking, lacy dress robe was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train. Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Draco was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled. 

“Look at this!” said Draco ecstatically, holding up Ron’s robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, “Weasley, you weren’t thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean — they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety. . . .” 

“Eat dung, Malfoy!” said Ron, the same shade of magenta as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Draco’s grip, much to the delight of Draco and his cronies as they guffawed gleefully, unable to get over the horrible dress robes.

“So . . . going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know . . . you’d be able to afford some decent robes if you won.” 

“What are you talking about?” snapped Ron. 

“Are you going to enter?” Draco repeated, sighing at the confused look on Ron’s face and turning to Harry instead. “I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off.” 

“Either explain what you’re on about or go away, Malfoy,” said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. 

 “Don’t tell me you don’t know?” he said delightedly, a gleeful smile spreading across his face. “You’ve got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don’t even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago, heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry. Maybe your father’s too junior to know about it, Weasley, they probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of him.” 

Crabbe and Goyle laughed encouragingly for Draco, who turned to Rosalind with a nasty smirk.

“Well, what about you, Black? Surely you know, with your mother as prestigious as she is. She must have told you before you ran away from home.”

Ignoring the shocked looks Hermione, Ron, and Harry were giving her, Rosalind rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “No, Draco. My mother, unlike your father, knows how to keep a secret and not spoil the fun for her children. All she would tell us was that there would be a need for dress robes.”

Draco couldn’t seem to stop from laughing. “Oh! Oh, this is too precious. None of you know! I can’t believe it.”

“Know what I can’t believe?” Rosalind said cooly, raising an eyebrow at Draco. “I can’t believe you think pulling a stunt like this will help you this year. If you’re this loose lipped with a secret from your own father, I would hate to tell Stygian maybe some of his secrets aren’t so safe with you.”

“What are you on about?” Draco chuckled, elbowing Goyle in the side.

“Gosh golly,” Rosalind said unnaturally loud, giving Draco a very pointed look. “I sure do love lamps, just like some other bugs.”

Draco gave a grumble, turning to his friends. “Come on Crabbe, Goyle…”

“Get out of here!” Dean cheered as the three slunk out of the compartment.

“Yeah, run away little Veela!” Rosalind called out as Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered. 

“Ron!” said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered “Reparo!” and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door. 

“Well, making it look like he knows everything and we don’t,” Ron snarled. “ ‘Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry.’. . . Dad could’ve got a promotion any time, he just likes it where he is. . . .” 

“Of course he does,” said Hermione quietly. “Don’t let Malfoy get to you, Ron —”

“Him! Get to me!? As if!” said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp. 

No one spoke for a moment; Ron was clenching and unclenching his fists, Hermione had returned to her book and was casting concerned looks at Ron every few moments. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were exchanging awkward glances, seemingly unsure whether or not it was appropriate to excuse themselves yet.

Rosalind jumped slightly as Harry scooted closer to her, leaning over to whisper into her ear. “What did they mean, that you’d run away from home?”

“I, er…” Rosalind swallowed nervously, turning her head so she could whisper into Harry’s ear. “Stygian and I… well, after the World Cup and the, er, rally… I guess you could say home wasn’t exactly… safe.”

Harry leaned back slightly, eye growing wide with shock. “Was, was your mother one of the…?”

Rosalind sighed and gave Harry a nod, wrapping her arms around herself and slouching down in her seat, wary of Harry’s eyes lingering on her face. He didn’t say anything after that, but moved even closer to Rosalind so that their shoulders and legs were pressed against each others.

Ron’s grumpy attitude and Hermione’s invested charm practicing left Rosalind, Dean, Seamus, and Neville stewing in the awkward silence of the compartment. They lingered for a moment before excusing themselves, heading out into the train.

The odd group walked in silence for a moment before Dean turned to Rosalind, a curious expression on his face. “Is there really going to be a ball?”

Rosalind broke into a grin, nodding eagerly. “Stygian and I have been working on our outfits since July!”

“You’re going to go with your brother?” Seamus laughed and elbowed Dean in the side. “Lame, right Neville?”

Neville gave a jump, as though surprised to be included in the conversation. “Um, I don’t know.”

“I’ll give you a hint, it’s very lame.” Seamus looked down at Rosalind and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Would have thought you'd be planning on going with Potter, eh, Black?”

“Shut up,” Rosalind scoffed, feeling her cheeks grow hot as she punched Seamus in the arm. “We’re just friends.”

“Blimey,” Seamus muttered, rubbing his arm while Dean and Neville laughed at his pain. “Ron was right about that punch!”

It was comforting to arrive at the castle after the long train ride from Kings Cross. Hogwarts Castle was cozy and warm, a fortress waiting in the rain for the oncoming students. Rosalind, Ginny, Estelle, and Colin excitedly entered the Great Hall, which looked like something out of a dream. Golden platters, plates, and goblets lined each of the four house tables, illuminated by the hundreds of candles floating amongst the house banners beneath the enchanted ceiling. 

“It’s so nice to be back,” Rosalind sighed, sinking into a seat at the Gryffindor table. 

“When will we get to eat?” Ginny sat down across from Rosalind, picking up a fork and jabbing absentmindedly at her empty plate.

“After the sorting, you know that,” Estelle lectured Ginny as she took a seat beside her.

“Course she does,” Colin grinned as he sat down next to Rosalind, turning his head to look further down the table. “Oh, hiya, Harry!”

“Hi, Colin,” said Harry warily, giving Rosalind an amused eye roll as they made eye contact. 

“Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother’s starting! My brother Dennis!” 

“Er, good,” said Harry. 

“He’s really excited!” said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. “I just hope he’s in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?” 

“Er — yeah, all right,” said Harry, giving Colin a half-hearted smile before turning back to his conversation with Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Colin,” Ginny said with a smile, putting her arm around Colin’s shoulders. “I’m in the same house as all of my siblings.”

“But Rosalind isn’t,” Colin fret, pulling at his hair anxiously.

“Yeah, true,” Rosalind smirked at Colin. “But I’m nothing like Stygian. You and Dennis seem to be practically copies of each other.”

At that moment the doors to the hall swung open, and Professor McGonagall led in a parade of first year students. All but one were looking at their new surroundings. The one who wasn’t was walking with Hagrid, wrapped in Hagrid’s enormous fur coat.  His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin’s eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, _ I fell in the lake! _ He looked positively delighted about it. 

To nobody's surprise, Dennis was placed in Gryffindor house alongside Colin. He ran up to his brother the moment the sorting hat left his head, leaving Hagrid's coat behind as he squeezed in between Colin and Rosalind.

“Colin, I fell in!” he said excitedly, bouncing up and down in his seat. “It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!” 

“Cool!” said Colin, just as excitedly. “It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!”

 “Wow!” said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster. 

“Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?” 

“Oh stop it, Colin, he’s just another student.” Rosalind leaned around Dennis and punched him in the side before smiling down at the newcomer. “Remember me? Rosalind?”

“Call her Rosa,” Colin wheezed, rubbing his side as Dennis shook her hand for the second time.

“Oh, Colin’s told me all about you, Rosa!” Dennis said eagerly, not letting go of Rosalind's hand.

“You already said—”

“Wait!” Ginny cried out excitedly, eye’s glimmering curiously. “What did he say about her?”

“Oh, nothing bad! Says she’s the sixth bravest Gryffindor he’s befriended!”

“I’m flattered,” Rosalind laughed, yanking her hand free of Dennis.

“What did he say about me?” Ginny asked eagerly, her hunger forgotten. 

“You’re Ginny, right? Well, he’s practically head over heel—”

“Oh, look!” Colin interrupted, putting his hand over his brother’s and pointing up towards the front of the hall. “Professor Dumbledore is starting the speech!”

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome. 

“I have only two words to say to you,” he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. “Tuck in.” 

“Hear, hear!”

No sooner had the chant left the lips of the hungry students when the golden platters in front of them filled with food. Rosalind eagerly reached for the steak, laughing as Dennis tried the iced pumpkin juice with incredible gusto. The newest Gryffindors’ excitement doubled when dessert came around; piles of chocolate gateau, treacle tart, and pudding that smelled even more tantalizing than the main course.

It didn’t take long for every one of the students to scrape their plates clean and fill their stomachs, the noise level in the hall rising as everyone waited for Dumbledore to make his welcoming speech. As he rose from his seat the buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard. 

“So!” said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. 

“Ah, yes,” Ginny whispered across the table, bunching her hair around her face to look like a beard. “All students remember that if you bothered to check the list outside Filch’s office you could see that every fun item we could think of is banned. This is a school, not a vacation. Say, McGonagall, have you seen my underpants?”

Estelle gave Ginny a nudge and a shush as people around them began to giggle and point at her. She dropped her hair with a shameless grin, winking over at Colin and Dennis before turning their attention back to the Headmaster.

“As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.”

“We get to go to Hogsmeade this year!” Rosalind whispered excitedly to nobody in particular. "You got your forms signed, right?"

Estelle and Ginny threw her excited glances, nodding quickly before returning their attention back to the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore paused, looking around the room regretfully. “It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.” 

“What?!” Rosalind gasped, looking around at the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry had jumped out of his seat, staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, while Fred and George were mouthing soundlessly at the headmaster, apparently too appalled to speak. With their keeper, Oliver Wood, graduated, a spot had opened up on the team; a spot Rosalind had been hoping to fill.

Dumbledore went on, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —” 

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

“What else?” Rosalind huffed, turning towards the entrance to the hall. 

A flash of lightning went off across the enchanted ceiling, illuminating the newcomer who had entered the hall. Rosalind smiled at the familiar, worn figure making his way towards the teachers table, the thumping from his clawed, wooden leg echoing across the silent hall.

Someone tugged on her arm, and Rosalind looked over to see Dennis and Colin staring at her, eyes round with fear.

“Do you know who that is?” Colin whispered worriedly, casting nervous looks at the newcomer. 

Almost as if he had heard him, one of the stranger’s eyes turned out of his head to look directly at Colin, bulging out of his scarred face.

“It’s alright, Colin, Dennis,” Rosalind whispered, smiling down at them. “That’s Alastor Moody, a former Auror.”

“You might know him as Mad Eye Moody,” Ginny whispered across the table, a bemused smile on her face. “I wouldn’t say for sure that he’s mad, but I know my dad had to go check on his place this morning. The old man attacked his own trash bins, and the muggle law enforcement got involved. They got to the scene to find the bins hurtling trash ten feet in every direction, poor blokes had to get their memories altered.”

“He’s… intense,” Rosalind admitted, biting her lip. “But, he’s alright. Stygian and I like him enough. You’d be intense too if you were as closely involved in hunting down the Dark Lords followers as he was.”

Alastor Moody reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Rosalind couldn’t hear. Alastor gave a grunt of acknowledgment before sitting down, helping himself to a large sausage. His human eyes remained fixed on the meal in front of him, while the bulging, blue, magical eyes looked around the room warily.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

Usually new Professors were greeted by tumultuous applause, but hardly anyone clapped for Professor Mad Eye Moody. The dull echoes of the applause from Dumbledore, Hagrids, Stygian, and Rosalind echoed around the hall as the students all stared, transfixed by their newest Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Mad Eye gave them no heed, simply lifting a flask from his side and taking a swig, face wincing slightly at whatever he had drunk from inside.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. 

“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.” 

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred loudly. 

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. 

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . .” 

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. 

“Er — but maybe this is not the time . . . no . . .” said Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament . . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.”

“I’m so glad mother didn’t tell me,” Rosalind whispered over to Ginny, who looked back at her with a glint in her eye.

“You going to enter?” Ginny whispered back, raising an eyebrow.

“If I can!” Rosalind bounced eagerly in her seat. “Can you imagine how exciting that would be? It would definitely make up for not being able to try out for the Quidditch team.”

“That’s daring, Rosa, even for you,” Estelle leaned in to voice her concern, frowning.

“Right?” Rosalind grinned eagerly. “And, as a plus, it’ll really piss off Mother.”

“Shush!” Colin put his hand over Rosalind's mouth and glanced meaningfully up at the front of the Hall.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore was saying, “none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. 

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

 “I’m going for it!” Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm. All throughout the hall students voices began to rise as they discussed the prospect of glory, power, and most importantly, money.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This” — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious — “is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.” His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred’s and George’s mutinous faces. “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. 

“Sorry, Rosa,” Ginny whispered across the table with a well meaning smile.

“Maybe next tournament,” Estelle added with a wink.

“Maybe…” Rosalind sighed, grabbing a leftover treacle tart and taking a sad bite.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” 

As Dumbledore finished speaking the noise level in the hall shot up. People were discussing the tournament amongst themselves, though in Fred and George’s case it was more complaining then discussing. The Triwizard tournament haunted everyone’s thoughts and conversations as they headed to their common rooms, and sunk into the familiar four poster beds. As soon as Rosalind wrapped herself in the warm comforter, listening to the pattering of the storm on the castle wall, the tension in her muscles she had been carrying since the World Cup released, and she sunk into a deep sleep.

Rosalind didn’t get to experience what a class under Professor Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody was like until Thursday afternoon, though stories and rumors about him were spreading through the school as soon as lunch on the first day of classes. Harry and Ron excitedly told her about Mad Eye changing Draco into a ferret and bouncing him around the courtyard until McGonagall caught him. Their newest Professor seemed to have won the admiration of most of the school with just the one stunt.

Thankfully Rosalind had finally reached her third year, meaning she was finally able to start her elective courses. Much to Ginny’s approval, and Hermione’s disappointment, she had opted to take Divination alongside Ginny and Luna, under the instruction of Professor Trelawney. Afterwards the three of them would meet with Colin, Harper, and Astoria in Care of Magical Creatures. Estelle was taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and was incredibly nervous. Rosalind promised to ask Hermione if she would be willing to help Elle out with homework, but nothing could stop her from worrying.

When Thursday finally came, Rosalind took her usual seat next to Harry in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, Ron and Hermione at the table behind them. They had rushed into the classroom to get the best seats, and sat patiently with their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, magical eye whizzing around and taking in the class before him. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes. 

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.” 

Rosalind exchanged an excited look with Ron as she turned to put her book back into her bag. 

Professor Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. 

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?” 

There was a general murmur of agreement throughout the room. 

“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses,” said Professor Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —” 

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out, leaning forward in his seat.

 Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron, giving him a smile that, despite his scarred face, seemed almost friendly.  “You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh? Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. Yeah, I’m staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.” 

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together. 

“So — straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.” 

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Rosalind hid a grin at the confusion and guilt on her face. Not everyone had been aware that Professor Moody’s magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. 

“So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?” 

Rosalind put her hand up alongside several others, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Professor Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender. 

“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one. . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?” 

“Ah, yes,” said Professor Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.” 

Professor Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Reaching into the jar, he caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Imperio!” 

The spider leapt from Professor Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. 

Rosalind looked around the classroom; everyone seemed to be laughing. She managed to crack a small smile at the lightness radiating from Harry, but the cursed spider filled her with a cold dread, and the lack of laughter, or even a smile, on Professor Moody’s grisled face did nothing to ease her churning stomach.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?” 

The laughter around Rosalind died away almost instantly. 

“Total control,” said Professor Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats . . .” 

Rosalind felt a lump catch in her throat as the magical eye fixed on her.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Professor Moody. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. Aye, Miss Granger?”

Hermione, who had been raising her hand patiently, lowered it with a curious expression. “Professor, how did they manage to tell the difference?”

“What are they talking about?” Neville’s whisper carried over from the other side of the room.

“Miss Black!”

Rosalind gave a jump as Professor Moody barked her name, rising gingerly from her seat. “Yes Professor?”

“Would you care to explain to your classmates about the nature of the Imperius curse and its usage by the Dark Lord?”

Rosalind swallowed gingerly and turned towards Neville, facing his direction but unwilling to meet his eyes. “During the rise of the — ”

“Speak up, girl!”

Rosalind gave a jump, swallowing nervously before raising her voice. “During the rise of the Dark Lord, Death Eaters cast the Imperius Curse on workers of the Ministry. By keeping them under their control they could, for example, continue their own missions and evil deeds, while the workers did the busywork no one wanted to do. Many of them were even forced to… kill their own families… and commit other crimes…  They were basically puppeteered into doing the Dark Lords orders.”

Neville gave her a scared look as Rosalind turned to Hermione, who was scribbling notes down intently.

“There’s no way to tell when someone has been under the Imperius Curse. The only way to prove it would be by casting Priori Incantatem on a wand that had just performed it, or by getting a confession from the spell caster. A lot of Death Eaters evaded Azkaban after the war by feigning to be Imperiused, and, as a result, walked free.”

“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Black?” Lavender snorted from the back of the room, crossing her arms.

Rosalind felt her face grow hot, and she opened her mouth to reply, but a loud thump cut her off. Professor Moody had turned to face Lavender, magical eye fixed on her intently. 

“Miss Brown, Rosalind's mother was pardoned on many cases, primarily being that she had no active involvement due to her pregnancies. The receival of a dark mark was something she claimed that was forced upon her when she was carted off for an arranged marriage with the Black family. Surely you’re not so dim witted that you lack sympathy?”

Lavender’s face turned a deep scarlet, clearly humiliated for being called out twice within the first ten minutes of class.

“Right,” Professor Moody coughed, giving Rosalind a nod. “Thank you, Miss Black.”

Rosalind released a shaky breath as she took her seat again, trembling slightly. 

“Hey,” Harry said with a nudge in her side. “You alright?”

Shaking her head, Rosalind scooted a bit closer to Harry so that their robes brushed, looking back up at Professor Moody as he resumed the lecture.

“Right, the Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.

Professor Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. “Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?” 

Hermione’s hand flew into the air again and so, to Rosalind’s slight surprise, did Neville’s. She had never seen Neville volunteer to answer anything in class, though Hermione said he had helped her with Herbology on multiple occasions. Even Neville looked surprised at his own daring. 

“Yes?” said Professor Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville. 

“There’s one — the Cruciatus Curse,” said Neville in a small but distinct voice. 

Professor Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes. 

“Your name’s Longbottom?” he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. 

Neville nodded nervously, but Professor Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move. 

“The Cruciatus Curse… needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!” 

The spider seemed to inflate and stretch, rapidly growing in size till it was larger than a tarantula. 

Professor Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “Crucio!” 

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but its pincers opened and closed in silent wails of agony. 

Rosalind couldn’t take it. She looked away from the agonized spider, catching a glimpse of Neville. His face was frozen in horror and pale as a sheet, his hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white from the tension going through his entire body.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalind saw Hermione jump out of her seat.

“Stop it!” 

Professor Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. 

“Reducio,” Professor Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size.

“Pain,” said Professor Moody softly, turning towards the class. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. That one was very popular once too.”

There was silence throughout the classroom as Professor Moody put the spider back in the jar, and it scuttled around the glass slowly.

 “Right . . . anyone know any others?”

Hermione’s hand shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air. 

“Yes?” said Professor Moody, looking at her. 

“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione whispered. 

Immediately everyone began to cast nervous glances, shocked that Hermione would so daring as to say the actual spell out loud.

“Ah,” said Professor Moody, another, more frightening slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra . . . the Killing Curse.” 

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade the Professors fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface. Professor Moody raised his wand, pointing it after the scuttling spider.

“Avada Kedavra!”

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound. Instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Rosalind felt Harry stiffen beside her, and looked over at him worriedly. His green eyes were fixed on the blackboard, unfocused and unpresent in the classroom. She gingerly put her hand on his arm, rubbing small circles till he came back to the present. 

Aware of the droning from Professor Moody, they exchanged one long, meaningful look before picking up their quills and resuming their classwork.


	16. Allegiance

The next few weeks of classes continued normally, or as normally as they could. Divination was proving to be an interesting class, if only Trelawney knew what she was talking about then maybe they could learn something. Luna was a valuable asset when it came to logging dream journals, and would help Rosalind and Ginny with their interpretations. Care of Magical Creatures was terrifying. Hagrid had their class working with salamanders, small newt like creatures that were continuously on fire. Not one person had escaped without a burn. Rosalind had the imprint of a salamanders foot on her wrist, which she had purposely avoided from showing Madame Pomfrey. It had scabbed over and left her with an awesome scar.

Defense Against the Dark Arts didn’t get any less intense. One of Rosalind's least favorite was the day Professor Moody attempted to teach them how to ward off the control of the Imperius Curse. Dean hopped around the room singing the national anthem. Lavender imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of gymnastics stunts he would never be able to do in his normal state. Harry, to Professor Moody’s delight, managed to slightly resist the curse. His command had been to jump onto his desk, but in the end he both tried to jump, and tried not to jump. The end result was Harry painfully sprawled on the floor of the classroom with two fractured kneecaps.

Rosalind had been all too easily controlled by the curse. As soon as Professor Moody had pointed his wand in her direction, an irresistible urge to dance had overcome her. She had grabbed the person closest to her, Ron, and led him around the room in an elaborate tango. Professor Moody had lifted the curse mid dip, and the two of them had gone crashing to the floor as Rosalind came to her senses.

All of the fourth year classes had had a disheartening increase in homework. Professor McGonagall swore it was only to prepare them for the threatening OWL exams, but Rosalind wasn’t convinced. Ron agreed with her conspiracy theory that the Professors were overloading them in an attempt to distract them from the upcoming arrival of the competing schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Hermione was too busy preparing for the House Elf revolution to form an opinion, and Harry was too distracted to agree. Nobody’s opinion changed the excessive spellcasting they needed to practise for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the two to three extra books Professor Flitwick instructed them to read each week, or the massive essays Professor McGonagall was having them write.

Uncle Sirius had finally sent them another letter. Harry had told him that his scar had begun to hurt, and Sirius was heading back towards Hogwarts to be closer, in case Harry needed any extra protection. In his letter to Rosalind he had given her several paragraphs of instructions with what to do to protect Harry in the event of several different emergencies. They all laughed at his well intended paranoia. Harry and Rosalind discussed writing to tell him about what Primrose had threatened at the World Cup, but ultimately decided it wouldn’t do anything but make him more paranoid.

The highlight of their first month at school had without a doubt been Rosalind's first trip to Hogsmeade. The entire day she ran around the village with Estelle, Ginny, Colin, Luna, Astoria, Rachel, and Harper. Even though it had been raining, they trudged up to the legendary Shrieking Shack, ran from store to store collecting sweets and supplies, and window shopped to their heart's content. It was exciting to end the trip with a fresh mug of piping hot butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, laden with their purchases and shivering from the cold. The drink was addictive, and warmed them all up for their trudge back up to Hogwarts castle.

In the final days leading up to the delegates arrivals, Hogwarts seemed to be getting an extra thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Mister Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. 

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air the day of the delegates arrival. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. As soon as the bell rang, the entire school stampeded through the hallways to their common rooms, desperate to be the first to leave their books in their rooms and meet at the entrance hall. Rosalind, Ginny, Estelle, and Colin raced from the greenhouse amongst the crowd, dumping their bookbags unceremoniously on their beds and grabbing their cloaks and scarves, doing their best to put them on while they hurried down to the entrance hall, where the Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines. 

“Weasley, straighten your hat,” Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. “Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair.” 

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. 

“Follow me, please,” said Professor McGonagall. “First years in front, and no pushing.” 

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Rosalind, Ginny, and Estelle whispered excitedly to each other while Colin tried to get the attention of his brother, Dennis, who was shivering from anticipation in the first row. Behind Rosalind were Harry, Ron and Hermione, debating amongst each other over the transportation methods of the arriving schools.

Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers — 

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” 

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest. Something large, much larger than a broomstick was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. 

“It’s a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. 

“Don’t be stupid, it’s a flying house!” scrutinized Dennis.

Dennis was almost correct; they watched in amazement as an enormous, powder blue carriage soaring them, pulled by a dozen, winged, palomino horses the size of elephants.

The first and second years squashed together in the front of the crowd to make room as the horses with hooves the size of dinner plates landed heavily on the ground, followed seconds later by the carriage. It bounced on its wheels and rolled to a stop, the horses pawing at the ground with their hooves, their red eyes flashing as they tossed their heads in the air.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps before springing back. A moment later the largest lady Rosalind had ever seen stepped out of the carriage. Her feet were the size of a childs head, and she towered over the visibly intimidated first years. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers. 

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, to get a better look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it. 

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” 

“Dumbly-dorr,” purred Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ’ope I find you well?” 

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore. 

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her. About a dozen boys and girls, all who looked to be in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Rosalind could see, they were staring up at Hogwarts with rather unenthusiastic looks on their faces.

“Who shoved sticks up their butts?” Rosalind muttered to Ginny, who gave a snort of laughter in response.

“ ’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked. 

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?” 

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ’orses —” 

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges.” 

Rosalind felt a tug on her robes sleeve, and turned to see an excited Luna looking over at her from the Ravenclaw line. Her smile was slightly off putting when paired with the thorny, red, vines that seemed to be holding her ponytail in place.

“Do you think Hagrid will let us study the Beauxbaton Abraxans in class?” She whispered dreamily, gesturing at the enormous winged horses.

“I don’t know, Luna,” Ginny replied, nervously eyeing the size of the creatures. “They seem a bit advanced for third year students…”

Luna nodded airily before turning back towards where the Headmaster and Headmistress were talking.

“My steeds require — er — forceful ’andling.” Madame Maxime cast a very doubtful look back at the horses, which appeared almost normal horse size next to her. “Zey are very strong… ” 

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling. 

“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’orses drink only single-malt whiskey?” 

“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing. 

The crowd of Hogwarts students parted to allow the Beauxbaton Headmistress and her students pass by. The french students whispered amongst themselves and cast dubious glances at their surroundings; not one of them seemed friendly. Only one, young looking blonde returned Rosalind’s smile shyly before being pulled along by her classmates.

“Wow,” Estelle said as they last of the blue coats disappeared into the castle. “They seem…”

“Uptight?” Colin suggested, raising an eyebrow a her.

“Entitled,” Rosalind snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Bourgeois?” Ginny smirked and crossed her arms, elbowing Rosalind in the side. “Do you think we’ll need to take classes with them?”

“Merlin, I hope not,” Rosalind moaned, turning back to the front of the crowd. “Our classes are big enough.”

Just then, a strange, sucking sound echoed across the grounds. Immediately, half the students began to search the sky in anticipation of Durmstrangs transportation, but as the noise grew louder it became more and more apparent that it wasn’t coming from up above.

“The lake!” Lee Jordan, resident quidditch commentator and friend of the Weasley twins, pointed eagerly down at the Black Lake. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water, except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; gigantic bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks. Then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor.

Rosalind squinted and jumped up and down, peering over the heads in front of her as first a long pole rose from the whirlpool, then the rigging-

“It’s a ship!” Ron gasped from behind her as the gigantic ship rose from the depths of the waters. It looked almost skeletal, as if a sunken ship had risen from the grave. A swell of excited whispers filled the air as the students of Hogwarts watched the ships anchor drop, and then slowly and steadily black figures filed off of the ship, and made their way up towards the castle.

As the newcomers were illuminated by the light coming from inside the castle, their uniforms were revealed. Unlike Beauxbatons posh silken blue, the Durmstrang students looked more than prepared for winter. Each one of them had a thick coat of a shaggy, matted fur. The only person with a different coat was the man leading the Durmstrang delegates. Rather than the standard coat, his was a reflective silver the same shade of his carefully groomed hair. 

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?” 

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied. 

“Karkaroff?” Rosalind narrowed her eyes at the Durmstrang Headmaster. She recognized his name, but from where?

“You know him?” Ginny whispered curiously as they watched Karkaroff shake Dumbledore’s hand with both of his, smiling widely with slightly yellow teeth.

“Maybe… I’m not sure.” Rosalind leaned forward, ears tuned to Karkaroff's voice.

“Good old Hogwarts,” Karkaroff was sighing, looking up at the castle. 

“How good it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. . . .” 

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy approached, Rosalind caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. Immediately she whipped around grabbing hold of Ron by the shoulder.

“Ron, tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

“I can’t do that,” Ron whispered, eyes as large as saucers as he grabbed hold of Rosalind's shoulder. “Rosa, it’s him! It’s really him!”

“Him?” Harry piped up, leaning in close to Rosalind and Rons arms.

“Victor Krum!” Rosalind and Ron whispered in unison, squeezing each others shoulders as they watched the famed Quidditch player tail Karkaroff through the crowd, the Hogwarts students slowly breaking rank to follow them into the Great Hall.

“For heaven’s sake, you two, he’s only a Quidditch player,” said Hermione. 

“Only a Quidditch player?” Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn’t believe his ears. “Hermione — he’s one of the best Seekers in the world!”

“I had no idea he was still at school!” Rosalind squeaked, letting go of Ron’s shoulder and jumping up and down. 

Harry cast Rosalind a look that he listened to her and Ron talking about Krum, grabbing hold of one of her arms in an attempt to steady her as they made their way into the castle. “Don’t fall over, McGonagall will have your ears if you embarrass Gryffindor house in front of the guests by falling on your face.”

Rosalind scowled, losing sight of Victor Krum in the crowded entrance hall, and allowed Harry to lead her into the Great Hall. He smiled down at her as they grabbed seats next to Ron and Hermione at their table, and she flashed one back before quickly standing up on a seat at the table, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Victor Krum. One glance proved she wasn’t the only one. Lee was by the Weasley twins, attempting to use them as a pyramid base to lift himself up over the crowd. Gaggles of students throughout the entire hall were desperately searching their pockets for anything they could use to get the famous Victor Krum’s autograph, most of whom were girls. A lot of the male students were trying much too hard to be casual as the famed Quidditch player walked past them, puffing out their chests and leaning against whatever was closest to them in an attempt to look suave. 

Ron and Rosalind sat together on the side of the table facing the doorway, where they could see the Durmstrang students standing, unsure of where to sit. The Beauxbaton students had opted to sit at the Ravenclaw table, their pale blue silks standing out against the dark blue and copper robes of Ravenclaw house. The were whispering amongst themselves and looking at the room unenthusiastically.

Ron nudged Rosalind, pointing at the Durmstrang delegates. One of them had taken charge and had begun to walk over to the tables, the others trailing behind him. Immediately, Rosalind and Ron jumped up from the table. 

“Over here! Come and sit over here!” Rosalind’s beckoning was echoed by several other people at their table.

Ron waved his hands. “Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space —” 

Hermione blinked up at them, confused. “What?” 

“Too late,” sighed Rosalind, slouching back down in the seat and glowering across the room. 

The Durmstrang boys were settling in at the Slytherin table, much to the delight of Slytherin house. Stygian shot a smug look at Rosalind as Victor Krum sat down at his side, dramatically introducing himself to his sisters idol as if he wasn’t aware of her staring daggers at him from across the room. 

“Merlin’s beard, Rosa,” Estelle laughed from Rosalind's other side, putting her hand on top of Rosalind's clenched fist. “You’ve got to calm down.”

“I’m completely calm,” Rosalind huffed, tearing her eyes away from Krum and Stygian to look at the front of the hall. “Look, there’s Dumbledore.”

The teachers of Hogwarts had begun filing into the hall, Headmasters at the tail end of the procession. When they reached the table, and the chairs at them, Madame Maxime took a seat on Dumbledore’s left, while Karkaroff seated himself on his right.

“Does the teachers table seem a bit overcrowded to you?” Estelle queried as they looked over the front of the hall. “There’s three empty chairs still.”

“Aha.” Rosalind nodded, but she wasn’t paying attention to Estelle. Her attention was focused on Headmaster Karkaroff, who was looked around the hall and flashing his yellow smile. She knew his from somewhere, but she couldn’t place where…

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.” 

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh. 

“No one’s making you stay!” Hermione whispered loudly, bristling at her. 

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!” 

Scattered applause from the students and newcomers echoed around the hall as Dumbledore took his seat, immediately getting caught up in conversation with Karkaroff,

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Rosalind had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign. 

“What’s that?” said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding. 

“Bouillabaisse,” said Hermione and Estelle, the older student looking at Estelle in surprise.

“Bless you,” said Ron and Rosalind, high fiving each other. 

“It’s French,” said Hermione, “I had it on holiday summer before last. It’s very nice.” 

“Just take their word for it,” Rosalind stage whispered to Ron, earning a punch in the arm from Estelle. “Hey, see?! I’m not the only girl around here who punches!”

“I learned it from you,” Estelle said sweetly, ladling some bouillabaisse onto her plate.

“Am I really that aggressive?”

Estelle laughed, holding the spoon for the dish and shaking it at Rosalind. “I wouldn’t say aggressive, maybe just… enthusiastic?”

“Enthusiastic?” Rosalind crossed her arms at Estelle.

“Aggressively enthusiastic,” Estelle grinned. “It’s quite- hey!”

Harry had scooted the bouillabaisse away from them, towards a newcomer that made Rosalind clam up. It was the Beauxbaton girl who had laughed at Dumbledore; she was reaching for the bouillabaisse, her white blonde hair cascading down her back, big blue eyes looking around at them.

Estelle realized that the girl wanted to take the food back to her table, and sheepishly put the serving spoon back in the dish.

The girl thanked her and walked back to her table, carrying the dish with her.

“She’s a veela,” Ron whispered hoarsely, eyes tailing her back to her seat.

“Of course she isn’t!” said Hermione tartly. “I don’t see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!” 

She wasn’t entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys’ heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless. 

“I’m telling you, that’s not a normal girl!” said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. 

“Why are you so interested?” Estelle raised an eyebrow at Rosalind and nudged her in the side, but Rosalind wasn’t paying attention. The Veela had taken a seat by the nervous girl who had smiled at Rosalind earlier. She made eye contact with her, and gave a small wave. The girl waved back, beginning to stand up from her seat, but the Veela girl grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back down. She cast an apologetic look back at Rosalind, who smiled at shrugged in response.

“Rosa?” Hermione waved her hand in front of Rosalind's eyes, bringing her back to their table. “Don’t tell me you’re crazy, too?”

“It’s not crazy, she’s just not blind,” Ron sighed, staring over at the Veela. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!” 

“They make them okay at Hogwarts.” Harry objected a little too quickly.

Rosalind looked up in surprise at Harry’s comment to find him looking down the table at her, the dumbfounded expression on his face making it clear he hadn’t intended to say that out loud. 

Estelle gave a giggle from next to her as Rosalind felt her cheeks grow warm, and she focused on eating her dinner.

“When you’ve all put your eyes back in,” said Hermione briskly, “you’ll be able to see who’s just arrived.” 

She was pointing up at the staff table. The three remaining empty seats had just been filled. Primrose Black and Ludo Bagman were now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s other side, while Mr. Crouch was next to Madame Maxime. The sight of her mother, the first time Rosalind had seen her since that night at the World Cup, was enough to make her blood run cold,

“What are they doing here?” said Harry in surprise. 

“They organized the Triwizard Tournament,” Rosalind said hoarsely, not tearing her eyes away from her mother. She was in her nicer work robes, her hair in a professional bun. Her green eyes momentarily met her daughters’, and Rosalind looked away quickly, her mind racing. Her mother was chatting with Karkaroff easily, much too easily. It was the same kind of easy chatter that she had with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

“I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start.” Hermione concluded, returning to her dinner.

“Rosa?” Harry’s voice, edged with concern, ripped her attention away from her mother as she rigidly turned to meet his gaze. “Are you alright?”

Rosalind shook her head, turning back to her food. Was Headmaster Igor Karkaroff a Death Eater? Had she seen him at the rally?

She didn’t say much for the remainder of the feast, not even when dessert was served. She was watching her mother out of the corner of her eye, as she mingled with the overexcited Ludo Bagman, talked easily with Karkaroff and Dumbledore. If the Death Eaters were going after Harry, and she knew they were, was Headmaster Karkaroff involved?

The hall fell silent as Dumbledore stood up again, the few students still eating hesitantly putting their spoons and forks down to listen to the Hogwarts Headmaster.

“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. 

“But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Miss Primrose Black, Personal Assistant of our very own the Minister of Magic,” -the Slytherin table broke into polite applause, which the other tables quickly attempted to copy- “Cornelius Fudge,” — there was a smattering of polite applause, as not many students knew who Bartemius Crouch was — “and, of course, Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.” 

There was much more applause for Ludo Bagman, most likely more for his fame as a former Quidditch beater than his actual position. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Primrose Black was smiling quaintly around the room, beaming at her son when she saw him sitting next to the infamous Victor Krum. Mr. Crouch looked out of place amongst them, and didn’t seem all too enthusiastic about being at Hogwarts. 

“Mr. Bagman, Miss Black, and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.” 

At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Headmaster Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, as he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.” 

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students as they stood up to try to get a better look. 

Rosalind didn’t pay much attention to Headmaster Dumbledore. She was finishing the last of her pudding and watching her mother. Primrose was watching the casket intently as Karkaroff whispered intently into her ear.  If Karkaroff was truly a former Death Eater, was he helping in the revival of the Dark Lord? Being the Headmaster of Durmstrang meant he lived in a different country, so maybe he wasn’t involved. But a maybe wasn’t good enough, there was no way they could trust him.

Her attention shifted back to Dumbledore as he took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall. 

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. 

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. 

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

Almost immediately students all across the hall leapt to their feet, some of the ones who seemed intent on trying to fool the cup racing out of the hall to find some spell to help them. The noise level lifted drastically, and Rosalind drew her attention away from her mother to see her own friends standing up from their seats.

“Coming, Rosa?” Estelle said over the enormous yawn her jaws had opened into.

“In a moment,” Rosalind said with a glance at the front of the room. “Go ahead without me, I’ll see you in the dorm.”

All around Rosalind excited students were discussing this newfound Goblet of Fire. Fred was loudly talking about how brewing a simple aging potion would be enough to fool the line, much to the amusement of Gryffindor Chaser, Angelina, who was of age and planning on putting her name in in the morning. Professor Karkaroff was eagerly ushering Victor Krum back to their ship, dotingly making sure the seeker had everything he needed to be comfortable.  Dennis and Colin were playing with a muggle camera, taking photos of each other posing by the mostly eaten feast.

“Rosa!”

Rosalind jumped from her seat at the sound of Stygians voice, turning around with a grin. Her brother was pushing his way against the flow of the crowd towards her.

“Styg!” Rosalind laughed, throwing her arms around her brother before quickly pushing him away and kicking him in the leg. “What was that stunt with Krum, eh?”

“You know I wouldn’t be able to help myself,” Stygian said sweetly, batting his eyelashes at her. “Especially when it would bug my precious baby sister oh so much.”

Rosalind grumbled, and Stygian smiled down at her apologetically. “I’m sure we’ll be able to introduce you to him at some point.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So… how have you been?” Stygian said with a smile.

“I was okay…” Rosalind mumbled, kicking at the ground aimlessly. “Everything was fine till she got here.”

“You did say they want Harry dead,” Stygian said with a small sigh. “You know I don’t want to believe you, but with her coming here… do you think this could have something to do with it?”

“Excuse me?”

Both Stygian and Rosalind turned around at the sound of the new voice. Behind Stygian was the girl who Rosalind had exchanged smiles with, looking shyly up at him,

“I was ‘oping to eentroduce myself,” She said shyly, curtsying slightly. “My name is Gabrielle Delacour.”

“That’s such a pretty name!” Rosalind gushed, sticking her hand out to Gabrielle. “My name is Rosalind, Rosalind Black.”

“Rozaleed,” Gabrielle echoed, smiling lightly as she gently shook her hand. “ ‘Ow lovely to meet you.”

“And I’m her brother, Stygian,” Stygian said, bowing deeply.

“Ztygian.” Gabrielle echoed and blinked, looking up at him curiously. “Zat is a unusual name.”

“It’s very traditional,” Rosalind laughed, nudging her brother in the side before turning back to the newcomer. “So, you’re from Beauxbaton?”

“Oui,” Gabrielle grinned. “My seester is ‘oping to be a champion, so I came wit her.”

Stygian gave a deep laugh. “Bold to assume your sister will be a champion, isn’t it? The drawings not till tomorrow.”

“Your sister?” Rosalind raised an eyebrow. “Who’s she?”

“Gabrielle!” 

Rosalind and Stygian looked towards the sound of the noise, Rosalind stiffening. Rons alleged veela was making her way towards them through the almost deserted Hall, wrapped  

“Gabi,” she sang as she approached them, wrapped tightly in her coat and muffler. “ Zer will be time to make friends later, come.”

“My seester,” Gabrielle said with a gesture towards the veela. “Fleur.”

“Charmed,” Stygian said with a bow.

“I am sure,” Fleur replied with barely a glance at Stygian and Rosalind, linking her arms with Gabrielle and dragging her sister towards the entrance. “Come, Gabbi!”

“It was nice to meet you!” Rosalind managed to call after them, her muscles loosening as Fleur and her sister got further away. 

“Get a grip, sis,” Stygian laughed, sitting down at the table and grabbing a leftover pasty. “I meant to ask, how come you haven’t visited? Astoria says she’s invited you to every party this year.”

“Yeah, you guys have a lot of parties. What's up with that?”

Stygian shrugged. “It’s always been like that. Come by one of these days, alright? Blaise really misses you.”

“I know,” Rosalind groaned, sinking into the chair next to him. “He always sulks when he sees me with my Gryffindor friends. It’s so childish.”

Stygian opened his mouth to respond, but a different voice beat him to it, a disturbingly familiar voice that shook Rosalind to the core.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Mother!” Stygian jumped from his seat, shoving the rest of the pasty into his mouth and giving her a welcoming hug.

“Mother,” Rosalind huffed, crossing her arms and legs in her seat. “Why are you here?”

“Didn’t you hear Dumbledore, Rosalind?” Primrose said sweetly. “I’m to be one of the judges, though in all honesty that's more of a formality. I’m to make sure the entire tournament runs smoothly.”

“What’s with you and Karkaroff?” Rosalind queried, raising an eyebrow. “You seem to know each other pretty well.”  
“We went to school together, dear,” Primrose said with an innocent smile. “He knows me and your Uncle Severus very well.”

“Cool, so he was a Death Eater.”

“Rosa!” Stygian and Primrose shouted at the same time, glaring down at her.

“Not in public,” Stygian hissed down at her through tightly gritted teeth.

“Whatever,” Rosalind huffed, getting up and turning away. “See you at tomorrow's feast.”

“Hey!”

Rosalind flinched slightly as her mother's manicured nails grabbed hold of her arm, holding onto it tightly.

“Watch yourself, Rosalind Black. Don’t mess with anything that may prove to be… unsafe. How do you think it would look if you got your meddling friends involved in some sort of unfortunate accident?”

Rosalind didn’t respond, simply jerking her arm away from her mother and walking out of the Great Hall. As soon as she reached that grand staircase she broke into a run, dashing towards the Gryffindor common room, expertly dodging trick steps as she frantically drafted a letter to Sirius in her head. 

As soon as she climbed through the portrait hole, she summoned a scroll, quill, and inkwell down from her room and scribbled out a letter.

 

Padfoot,

I think Harry’s in trouble, and I don’t know who else to turn to. 

I know you know about the Death Eater rally that happened after the World Cup, but I haven’t been able to tell you what happened. I was trying to save one of the muggles the Death Eaters were torturing, but they caught me before I could get away. That’s when I realized the Death Eater I was talking to my Mother. She said she was doing it for dad, to feel closer to him, and she wanted Stygian and myself to join. She said they were planning something, that the Dark Lord would rise again. 

Now she’s a judge in this, Triwizard Tournament, with there’s another judge who I think is, or at least was, a Death Eater, Igor Karkaroff. He’s the headmaster of Durmstrang now. He seemed to be really close to my mother, and I’m scared that Uncle Severus.

They’re here for a reason. They’re planning something, I know it, but I don’t know what to do. All I know is that we need to protect Harry, because he could be in danger.

Please reply ASAP

Signed,

Your adoring Niece

 

Rosalind read it over once more as she ran back through the hallway and out onto the school grounds, making her way up to the owlery. The night was very cold, and the distant glows from the Durmstrang ship and Beauxbaton carriage illuminated the grounds. 

With frozen fingers, Rosalind pushed open the heavy wooden doors, not surprised to find the owlery almost deserted. One of the schools short eared owls was perched on the side of the room, grooming its feathers. She hesitantly tied the letter to the owl’s expectantly stretched out claw, and watched wistfully as it soared off into the October night.

The next morning Ginny woke Rosalind up bright and early, pulling her out of bed by her ankles, ignoring Rosalind's cries of protest as her quilted comforter tangled around her torso and dragged across the floor behind her.

“Can you two be any louder?” Estelle groaned from her bed, putting her pillow over her head.

“Come on!” Ginny urged, dropping Rosalind's ankles so that she could stand up. “We’ve got to go watch who all enters their names into the goblet!” 

“You could have just said that,” Rosalind moaned, rubbing her sore behind with one hand as she bent over to pick the quilt up off the floor. “Alright… give me half an hour?”

“Half an hour?!” Ginny yelped, yanking the quilt out of her hands. “What’re you up to?”

“What do you mean?” Rosalind grumbled, rifling through her clean shirts.

“Rosa, you never take that long to get ready in the morning,” Estelle said as she sat up in her bed, giving up on sleep. 

“Well, we’ve never had a famous Quidditch player living in our castle before.”

Ginny groaned while Estelle gave a knowing giggle.

“What, Harry isn’t enough for you?” Estelle teased, throwing a pillow at Rosalind.

Rosalind gave a grumble, her cheeks growing hot as she pulled a yellow turtleneck out of the drawer. “Does this seem nice enough?”

“Yes, put it on,” Ginny urged, pushing Rosalind toward the bathroom. “Hurry up, let’s go!”

Thanks to Ginny’s impatience it only took twenty minutes for Rosalind to wash, get dressed, and pull her curly hair atop her head in a semi decent ponytail. Estelle even climbed out of bed to help her fill in her eyebrows, while Ginny impatiently moaned behind them. 

Soon enough the trio had left the common room and entered the great hall, which was surprisingly full for eight thirty in the morning on a saturday. Every few minutes some corner of the hall would erupt into applause and cheers of encouragement as some sixth or seventh year student made their way over to the Goblet of Fire, and dropped their name into the flickering blue flames. 

As Rosalind reached for a platter of eggs, the doors to the hall swung open. Everyone’s attention shifted to the single file line of Durmstrang students that paraded in, a well rested Igor Karkaroff at the head of the line. Thick furs rustling on their shoulders, they marched stiffly up to the Goblet, dropping their names in one after another. Polite applause broke out as each candidates name went up in in the flame, a silver ember vanishing into the heart of the Goblet. 

The loudest applause was for none other than Victor Krum, the final person to drop their name into the Goblet. Rosalind, alongside the majority of the hall, eagerly jumped out of her seat and cheered as he walked to Karkaroff’s side. The Durmstrang headmaster gave Victor Krum a hearty pat on the back as the Durmstrang boys filed back out of the hall, and the great doors swing shut behind them.

“Tough luck,” Ginny mumbled around a mouthful of toast as Rosalind plopped back into her seat with a disappointed sigh.

“If you want his attention you’re going to need to do a lot more than cheer,” Estelle said as she looked around the hall. “That’s what every other girl here is doing. You’re going to need to figure out how to stand out.”

“And what do you know about boys?” Ginny laughed, picking up a cup of butterbeer.

“What do you?” Estelle shot back, raising an eyebrow at Ginny. “Or have we missed the abundance of boyfriends you’ve had?”

“You never know,” Ginny said with a sly grin across the hall at the Ravenclaw table. “I think some of those boys might be sweet on me.”

“Morning, ladies!” Colin chirped as he plopped into a seat beside Estelle, surveying the extravagant breakfast set up in front of them. “Blimey, hearty breakfast today! The house elves must be really trying to impress our guests. What are we all talking about?”

“Ginny’s dating life,” Rosalind laughed, shoving some eggs into her mouth. 

“O-oh, r-r-really?” Colin nearly dropped the spoon of eggs he was loading onto his plate, his cheeks turning red.

“Hey, guys!” 

Colin’s embarrassment for spared for a moment at the arrival of Ron, Harry, and Hermione, all of whom couldn’t seem to take their eyes off the Goblet in the center of the room.

“Anyone put their names in yet?” Ron asked eagerly, taking a seat beside Ginny.

“The whole Durmstrang lot,” Rosalind said eagerly, grabbing a slice of toast. “A few from Hogwarts, too.”

“Bet some of them put their names in after everyone went to bed,” Harry mused as he sat down next to Rosalind. “That’s what I could have done… that way no one would know if the Goblet rejected you.”

Rosalind nodded as he spoke, eyes drifting towards the Goblet. Painted on the floor around the flaming relic was a golden circle that seemed to be able to sense who was and wasn’t above age. Anyone under the age of seventeen was repelled from the circle's edge, bounced back as if by the wrong end of a magnet. Those daring enough to try to force their way into the circle were shot backwards with a bolt of energy, and sent crashing into either the crowd of onlookers, or the stone floor of the hall.

Suddenly ruptuous laughter filled the hall. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were making their way towards the flaming goblet, looking very pleased with themselves.

“Done it,” Fred laughed triumphantly as he passed by where they were sitting at the Gryffindor table. “Just taken it!”

“Wha-?” mumbled Ron around a mouthful of breakfast. 

“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” said Fred. 

“One drop each,” said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. “We only need to be a few months older.” 

“We’re going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins,” said Lee, grinning broadly. 

“You guys aren’t nearly as smart as you look if you think Dumbledore wouldn’t have thought of an aging potion,” Rosalind scoffed, shaking her fork at the older boys.

“Ah, but that’s the catch,” Fred teased with a meaningful look at George.

“It’s so simple, that it’s bound to work,” George finished for his brother, giving him a triumphant high five.

“I’m not so sure this is going to work, you know,” said Hermione warningly “I’m really quite sure Dumbledore will have thought of this.” 

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her and raced up to the Goblet of Fire. 

“Ready?” Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. “C’mon, then — I’ll go first —” 

He dramatically whipped out a scrap of paper from his pocket and stepped up to the golden line, balancing dramatically on the outside of the circle like a diver about to jump. Then, very much aware that the attention of the whole hall was on him, he took a deep breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second it seemed like the potion had worked. George certainly though so, seeing as he gave a triumphant cheer and jumped after his brother into the golden circle. But the next moment there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by a bucking hippogriff. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards. 

The Hall rang with laughter so contagious that even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other’s beards. 

“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming into the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. “I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours.” 

Chortling, the Weasley twins left the hall, escorted by a laughing Lee out towards the hospital wing. 

“Now who’s the dung brain?” Ron scoffed and took a swig of pumpkin juice. 

“Honestly, I can’t understands what they were thinking,” Hermione sighed.

“Would have been nice to have a Gryffindor represent Hogwarts, though,” Ginny said wistfully, standing up from her seat. “Come on, Colin. Let’s sit with Luna. She’s closer to the Goblet.”

Estelle tailed along after Ginny and Colin as they headed away towards the Ravenclaw table, leaving Rosalind with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She watched as an overexcited Dennis joined Colin on the way, seemingly vibrating with energy as he jabbered away to his older brother.

“Who else from Hogwarts did you see put their name in?” Ron asked Rosalind eagerly.

“Well, there was-”

“There’s a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in,” Dean, who had been listening from next to Ron, interrupted. “That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth.” 

“Warrington? You mean, Cassius?” Rosalind raised a questioning eyebrow.

“That’s the one,” Dean said.

Harry shook his head in disgust. “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” 

“And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,” said Seamus contemptuously. “But I wouldn’t have thought he’d have wanted to risk his good looks.” 

“Look!” Said Hermione, pointing across the hall.

Rosalind looked up as cheers erupted from their table. Angelina Johnson, one of the Gryffindor Chasers, was making her way over to the table, her face flushed with excitement.

“Well, I’ve done it! Just put my name in!” 

“You’re kidding!” said Ron, looking impressed. 

“Are you seventeen, then?” asked Harry. 

“Of course she is, can’t see a beard, can you?” laughed Rosalind. 

“I had my birthday last week,” said Angelina, who couldn’t seem to stop grinning. 

“Well, I’m glad someone from Gryffindor’s entering,” said Hermione. “I really hope you get it, Angelina!” 

“Thanks, Hermione,” said Angelina, smiling at her. 

“Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,” said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him. 

The group sat in awkward silence until the Hufflepuffs wandered out of earshot before breaking into laughter, bidding ‘goodbye’’s and ‘see you later’’s as they stood up from the Gryffindor table and went their separate ways.

It was thrilling to re-enter the Great Hall at the end of the day for the Halloween feast. The usual decorations were put in place, with the clouds of live bats fluttering across the enchanted ceiling, and the castle ghosts floating in swarms amongst the living, causing many of the students hairs to stand on end as their spectral forms passed through the solid bodies. Enormous jack o lanterns were gracing the hall, some stationary on the ground and others floating in midair. The enchanted fires illuminating the inside the pumpkins were blue, mimicking the otherworldly flames coming from the brim of the Goblet of Fire.

Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, but Rosalind found herself not enjoying the extravagantly prepared food as much as she normally would. Like everyone in the hall, she was constantly craning her neck in the direction of the Goblet, waiting for the moment Dumbledore would announce the champions for the tournament. Every few seconds someone would stand up from their seat as squint up at the staff table to see if Dumbledore had finished eating, anxious to find out.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students, Primrose Black looking cooly and expectantly at Dumbledore from beside him, while Mr. Crouch seemed almost bored, staring off into the distance.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — he indicated the door behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving their first instructions.” 

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The flames inside the pumpkin seemed to mimic those of The Goblet of Fire, which now shined more brightly than anything in the whole Hall. The sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames was almost painful on the eyes. As they fizzled and popped, so did the pumpkins around the hall. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . . 

“Any second now,” Colin whispered excitedly, bouncing in his seat.

No sooner had the words left his mouth when the flames in the Goblet and pumpkins shifted from blue to red, plunging the Hall into a foreboding atmosphere. A tongue of fire leapt up out of the Goblet, tossing into the air a single, charred piece of parchment.

Awestruck eyes followed the parchment as Dumbledore effortlessly caught it in his hand, reading it out loud in the light of the flames, which had shifted back to blue.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.” 

“No surprises there!” yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall.

Rosalind jumped from her seat, cheering alongside Ron as Viktor rose from where he had been sitting next to Stygian and Draco at the Slytherin table, and solemnly marched towards the front of the hall; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber. 

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!” 

Everyone’s attention quickly shifted back to the Goblet as the room was plunged into a red glow once more. The clapping and chatting died down.  A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames. 

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!” 

The older girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. 

“Oh look, they’re all disappointed,” Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. 

Rosalind turned to glance over the group of Beauxbaton students, scanning the blue silken robes for her new friend. Many of them looked more than disappointed; one boy had managed to bend the golden Hogwarts cutlery clean in half, while two girls clung to each other and sobbed regretfully. Gabrielle was sitting not far away from Luna, her face pale as she watched her older sister disappear into the side room that Viktor Krum had entered minutes before. 

The noise level quickly plummeted as the Hogwarts students turned their focus back to the Goblet, watching the flickering flames.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. 

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!” 

“No!” said Ron loudly, jumping from his seat, but nobody heard him over the uproar from the next table. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. 

The applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again. Rosalind took the moment to look up at her mother, who was clapping politely next to an ecstatic Ludo Bagman. Primrose seemed to sense Rosalind's eyes fixed on her, and she gave her a cold look as Dumbledore fought for quiet in the Hall.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —” 

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. 

The room had once again been engulfed in the eerie red light, broken only by the sparks shooting up from the Goblet. The long tongue of fire reached up towards the ceiling of the hall, shooting out one more scratch of parchment into the air.

Dumbledore automatically reached forward to grasp it, clearing his throat loudly. There was a long pause as Dumbledore looked at the parchment, and the entire Hall stared intently at Dumbledore. Rosalind risked a glance at her mother, who had a slight, ominous smile on her face as she stared at the Hogwarts Headmaster. There was no way to describe the look in her eyes as they expectantly watched Headmaster Dumbledore read over the paper.

As if sensing Rosalind's eyes staring directly at her, Primrose turned to evenly stare back, the smile not fading from her lips.

Rosalind gave a shudder and grabbed hold of Harry's arm. 

Harry gave her a bemused glance. “Rosa? You alright?”

Rosalind didn’t reply, not taking her gaze from her mother as she edged closer to Harry. Was this it?

Dumbledore cleared his throat once more. “Harry Potter.”


	17. Confidant

“What?” Ginny gasped, turning around from where she sat opposite of Rosalind.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat. 

“How’d he do it?” Colin gasped, standing up from further down the table.

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were whispering amongst themselves at the front of the room, and they weren’t the only ones. Primrose had leaned over and was whispering into Igor Karkaroff’s ear as he nodded intently, eyes glaring down at Harry. 

“Blimey,” Dean’s shocked voice echoed up the table, resonating with many of their Housemates.

Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry in stunned silence as Rosalind slowly let go of his arm.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn’t.” 

Both of them stared just as blankly back. 

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

“Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!” 

“Go on,” Rosalind whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry stood up hesitantly, stumbling over his robes as he made his walk of shame up towards the front of the hall, whispering echoing louder through the hall as even the visiting schools realized an underage student has been selected for the Triwizard Tournament.

“Well,” Dumbledore straightened up and smiled around the hall. Immediately, the buzz and chatter died down to hear what he had to say.

“We will, of course be looking into this matter, alongside our Ministry representatives. Miss Black, do you have anything to say that would ease the minds of our students?”

Primrose smiled at Dumbledore and stood up from her seat, looking evenly around the hall. “Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. The Goblet of Fire is more than a magical artifact, and is fully aware of the decisions and choices it makes. It passed many tests to be approved as the official artifact for the re-established Triwizard tournament. The enchanted fire in the goblet, as you all can see, has gone out. This seals the magical contract between the Champion and the tournament, meaning that Harry Potter is, unfortunately, obligated to compete.”

Turning towards the side of the hall where Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sat, Primrose gave a beaming smile. “It would seem as though Hogwarts has two Triwizard Champions.”

There was an immediate upswing in volume as Primrose sat back down in her chair. Some Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were cheering loudly, while others argued amongst themselves over the fairness of the situation. Many of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws were shouting alongside the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students that the other schools deserved two champions as well. 

“SILENCE,” Ludo Bagmans voice echoed throughout the hall, magically amplified with the sonorus spell. Many students fell quiet, putting their hands over their ears to block out the ringing of the former Quidditch player’s voice.

“Thank you, Mister Bagman,” Dumbledore said. “I understand that there are mixed feelings to this conclusion, but it is a situation that requires further discussion amongst those in charge. Now, off to bed, all of you.”

Grumbles, mumbles, and indignant shouts met Dumbledore's words, but no one was willing to question the renowned Headmaster. He made it perfectly clear that the matter was done by leaving the table and going into the side room where the Champions were doubtlessly waiting impatiently, tailed by Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Crouch, Bagman, and Primrose. 

“Ron?” Hermione’s voice brought Rosalind back to the present. Ron was staring at the front of the hall in disbelief. His entire body was tensed up, fists visibly clenched in fists where they rested on the table. 

“Ronald?” Ginny poked her brother in the arm. “You alright”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Colin said excitedly, jumping up and down. “THE Harry Potter is a Hogwarts Triwizard Champion!”

“Quadwizard,” Estelle corrected Colin, standing up from her seat. “It can’t very well be the Triwizard Tournament with four wizards, can it?”

“Technicalities,” Colin scoffed, grabbing Ron by the shoulder. “Your best friend is a champion, isn’t that great?!”

“Is it?” Ron snapped, coming to. He turned his head, garing around at all of them. “Is it all that great?”

Hermione reached out and put her hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Ron, calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to be calm, Hermione!” Ron shrugged off her hand and jumped out of his seat. “Did he tell you he was entering? Did you help him do it?”

Colin and Estelle exchanged a look and backed away from the angry ginger, melding into the crowds headed back to their rooms.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione snapped, bristling back at Ron. “Why would I help him try to get killed?”

“That is all you guys ever do,” Ginny pointed out, pushing herself in between them. “Every year you guys help each other almost get killed.”

“That’s different,” Ron huffed, crossing his arms. 

“No, it really isn’t,” Ginny snapped back, looking Ron straight in the eye. “And if you were really his best friend, you would wait to hear what he has to say before jumping to conclusions.”

Ron growled and turned away from Ginny and Hermione, raising an eyebrow at Rosalind. “And where do you stand on all of this?”

Rosalind bit her bottom lip nervously. “Well, Ginny made a good point. Every year you guys almost get killed, but it’s not your fault. Someone clearly wants Harry dead, and-”

“So, what?” Ron rolled his eyes. “You Know Who put Harry’s name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” Rosalind cried out, throwing her hands into the air. “Is it really that impossible of an idea?”

“Would you know about that?” Hermione asked gently, putting a hand on Rosalind's shoulder. “Would your mother, uh, or family, had heard anything about that?”

Rosalind looked around nervously at the crowded hall. “I heard something, at the Quidditch World Cup, from my… from one of the rioters, but I can’t tell you here.”

“What?” Ginny looked at her in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“I told Harry… Oh Merlin, I thought I could handle it,” Rosalind groaned, putting her face in her hands. “I was an idiot.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Hermione sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fred, George, and Lee are throwing a party to celebrate our Gryffindor champion, so we probably won’t be able to talk in private till then.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ron huffed angrily, walking away from them. “He’s just after more glory, can’t stand not being the center of attention.”

“Ronald…”

Rosalind sank back down into her seat, their bickering fading away into the buzz of the slowly emptying hall. No one else seemed keen to stay in their seat, doubtlessly headed to a party or celebration for their champions. The candlelight dimmed as the last few stragglers from Beauxbatons wandered out, jabbering excitedly in french amongst each other. The heavy doors swung shut after them, and the hall was plunged into silence.

“Rrozaleend?”

Rosalind looked over at the source of the voice, managing a small smile at Gabrielle De’lacour as she walked over to her. “Hey, Gabrielle.”

“What arre you waiting for?”

“I was about to leave,” Rosalind sighed, standing up from her seat. “Congratulations, by the way. Your sister’s in the competition!”

“Oui…” Gabrielle sighed. “She ees. So is your, ‘Arry Potter.”

“He is.” Rosalind looked at Gabrielle as they headed towards the entrance hall. “Are you worried?”

Gabrielle thought for a moment as they swung the doors open, stepping out into the entrance hall. “Of course. Fleur ees smart, but she ees my seester. I will always worry.”

“Of course you will,” Rosalind smiled lightly. “I’d feel the same way is Stygian was a champion.”

“But ‘Arry is your friend, no? Are you worried?”

Rosalind swallowed, looking over at Gabrielle. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Gabrielle echoed, smiling lightly. “You arre close, no?”

Rosalind blinked, taken back slightly. “Is it- we- I mean-”

Gabrielle laughed lightly. “Rozaleend, you are funny.”

Taken back, Rosalind let out a giggle that Gabrielle echoed. They laughed for a minute, interrupted as the door to the Hall swung open, and Madame Maxime came out with Fleur under her arm, whispering urgently to each other in french.

“Gabi!” Fleur called out as she saw her sister, a relieved smile on her glowing face.

“I will see you laterr,” Gabrielle whispered to Rosalind, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze before running over to her sister. Madame Maxime smiled lightly as the two sisters hugged, allowing them a moment before urging them onward out of the castle.

Rosalind gingerly stepped back from the door as it swung open once again, Viktor Krum and Igor Karkaroff stepping out. 

“Ah!” Karkaroff smiled at Rosalind, drawing Viktor to a halt. “I know this little lady, daresay I would recognize those green eyes anywhere. You’re Primrose Black’s daughter!”

“Y-yes,” Rosalind swallowed nervously, her cheeks growing hot as she glanced from Karkaroff to Viktor. 

“Your mother is a wonderful person, wonderful. Helped me out of a few tight spots, she did. I take it you know Viktor?”

Rosalind nodded, cheeks painfully warm as she looked at Viktors shoes. “H-hi, Viktor. I-I saw you at the World Cup… you were incredible. Good luck with the tournament.”

Glancing up, Rosalind met Viktor’s eye for a moment as he gave her a nod and a half smile, glancing up at his Headmaster. 

“We’d best be off,” Karkaroff said quickly, smiling down at Rosalind with yellow teeth. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Black. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

“I’m sure you are,” Rosalind muttered under her breath as the two briskly stepped out of the hall, and into the night.

 “How did you get your name in?” Cedric’s voice echoed out from the Great Hall entrance behind her.

Rosalind turned around as the doors to the Great Hall swung open once again, smiling in relief as Harry and Cedric stepped out. The older Hufflepuff was looking dubiously down at Harry.

“I didn’t,” said Harry, staring up at him. “I didn’t put it in. I was telling the truth.” 

“Aha, okay…” Cedric was looking curiously at Harry, obviously not believing him. “Well, see you, Harry.”

Rosalind walked over to Harry as Cedric turned, nodding at her in acknowledgement as he strut away from them and descended down the staircase towards the lower levels of the school.

“I heard Luna say she read somewhere that the Hufflepuff common room is near the kitchens,” Rosalind said quietly to Harry as the Hufflepuffs footsteps faded from earshot.

“But where are the kitchens?” Harry asked, absentmindedly playing with the collar of his shirt.

“No clue.” Rosalind smiled lightly, pushing his hands away and straightening out his collar. “What did my mother say in there?”

“Apparently, I’ll be cursed if I don’t compete in the contest. I’m contractually obligated now.”

“Well, you don’t sound to disappointed about that.”

“I mean,” Harry looked at her with a small smirk. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t daydream about being in the tournament, but, Rosa, you’ve got to believe me when I say I’d never actually break the rules to compete.”

“Of course,” Rosalind laughed, rolling her eyes at him. “You’d never do anything as crazy as breaking rules.”

“Oh, stop it,” Harry rolled his eyes and shoved her in the side. 

“Never.” Rosalind looked over at Harry. “Did Moody have anything to say about all this?”

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to formulate a response. “Well… he thinks someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Of course,” Rosalind smiled for a second as she thought of the former Auror’s conspiracies. 

“I don’t think he’s wrong, but…”

“But you don’t see how he could be right.”

“Yeah… something like that.”

“Well… in all honesty… I think he could be on to something.”

“Really?” Harry looked over at Rosalind in surprise. “Then, you believe I didn’t put my name in?”

Rosalind turned her head to look Harry in the eyes. “Do you promise me you’re telling the truth?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, looking back at her.

“Alright,” Rosalind smiled lightly. “I believe you.”

Harry gave a relieved smile, letting out a sigh. “Do Ron and Hermione?”

“Well…” Rosalind though back to Ron’s outburst as he walked away from the Gryffindor table. “I know Hermione does, but you should definitely talk to Ron.”

“Yeah,” Harry looked over at the marble staircase. “I suppose we should go to the common room.”

“Do you want to?”

“Not really.”

“It’d be rude not to, heard they’re throwing you a party.”

Harry groaned and slouched against the stone wall.

“Oh, come on, you,” Rosalind laughed, linking her arm through Harry’s and pulling him towards the Grand Staircase. “You’ve got to face them at some point.”

“None of them will believe me,” Harry argued, but allowed Rosalind to guide him towards Gryffindor tower. “They all think I paid off a seventh year to do it, or confunded the goblet, or worse, imperiused Dumbledore.”

“No one thinks that lowly of you,” Rosalind laughed as they waited for one of the staircases to stop moving.

“Hey, you’re going to need to help me with something.”

“What?”

“The Patronus Charm.”

Rosalind looked back at him in surprise. “Why?”

Harry frowned. “Well, I took that potion before casting it last time, right? Maybe that was the only reason I made a fully fledged patronus appear.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Rosalind scoffed. “You said you managed to perform it before during your lessons with Professor Lupin.”

Harry gave a sigh. “I did, but I’ve been trying since then and I just, I can’t do it again. If I’m going to be in this contest, against older students who know more than me, I want to at least know I can do that on command.”

“Alright…” Rosalind paused as they reached the portrait hole. “I’ll check with Stygian to see if he can help us, he can actually cast a full one.”

A cough from the portrait turned their attention towards the Fat Lady. She was joined by an incredibly pale witch Rosalind recognized from a portrait in the entrance hall.

“Well, well, well,” said the Fat Lady, “Violet’s just told me everything. Who’s just been chosen as school champion, then?” 

“Balderdash,” said Harry dully. 

“It most certainly isn’t!” said the pale witch indignantly. 

“No, no, Vi, it’s the password,” said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let them into the common room. 

Immediately a roar of noise greeted them as all the celebrating Gryffindors raised their glasses of pumpkin juice and butterbeer to Harry. Several reached out and grabbed Harry, dragging him away from Rosalind and into the throng. He shot a hopeless look back at her as people crowded around him and cut them off from each other.

“Rosa!”

Rosalind turned at the sound of Ginny’s voice. “Hey!”

Ginny grinned and handed her a bottle of butterbeer, clinking it with her own before taking a large swig. “So, is he still saying he didn’t put his name in?”

Rosalind took a large gulp of butterbeer, unable to stop grinning at the delicious liquid. “Yup.”

“You believe him?”

“I do.”

“Alright,” Ginny sighed and took another swig of her drink. “Well, cheers to our fourth triwizard champion.”

“Quadwizard!” Estelle piped up, seemingly coming out of nowhere with a large bowl of crisps. “I refuse to call it anything other than what it is!”

“How long are you going to keep that up?” Colin scoffed, seemingly following Estelle only for the crisps she was carrying as he took a large handful and crammed it into his mouth.

“As long as it takes,” Estelle vowed, solemnly placing her hand over her heart.

“Do you think he can handle it?” Ginny asked worriedly, placing her empty bottle down on the ground.

The four of them turned around as loud cheering erupted from the other side of the common room. Lee Jordan had unearthed a large Gryffindor banned, and was dramatically running towards Harry, holding the banner up so that it streamed out behind him. To say Harry looked annoyed at Lee as the older student tied the banner around his shoulders like a cape was an understatement. His expression turned even more sour as the Weasley twins hoisted him up on their shoulders and paraded him around the room.

“Well, Ginny,” Rosalind smirked, tossing her bottle into a nearby trash can. “If he can handle your brothers, he can handle anything.”

Their first few days back in classes were some of the most uncomfortable Rosalind had experienced. She sat beside Harry in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms, and experienced second hand the attitudes everyone was giving their fourth triwizard champion. No one seemed to believe that Harry hadn’t put his name into the goblet, and kept congratulating him on tricking Dumbledore’s age line. Harry was visibly growing more and more frustrated with each comment; his bag was quickly filling up with quills he had accidentally snapped in half. Rosalind and Hermione cast a hardening charm on all the remaining quills to ensure they didn’t end up suffering a similar fate.

She had gotten Hermione, Ron, and Ginny together and told them about what had happened with her mother at the Quidditch World Cup. Ginny was appalled that Primrose, who her father thought of as one of the half decent former Death Eaters, could be as closely involved as she was, and she and Ron offered to convince their mother to invite her over for future summer holidays. Hermione was disgusted by the behaviour, and offered to help Rosalind research in the library any information that could shed some light on the Death Eaters that had attended Hogwarts together. Now that they were informed, all Rosalind had to do was find a moment that Harry wasn’t absorbed in his own misery to talk it over.

By the end of the week, Slytherin house had created and distributed pins in support of their Hogwarts Champions. The overly large green pins had red letter on the front that shifted from ‘Support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts Champion!’ to ‘Potter Stinks!’. Harry was furious, nearly backing out of lessons with Stygian out of his contempt for the cheap pins, but Rosalind managed to convince him that Stygian would never be involved in a prank like this. It was half true, because once she asked him Stygian admitted he had helped with the Cedric Diggory part of the pins, but had been unaware of the Potter bashing message until Draco actually gave him a pin of his own.

Hufflepuff house, who was usually more than friendly with the Gryffindors, was being more than cold. It was rare that their house got any glory, and Cedric being chosen to represent Hogwarts had been a big deal for them. Rosalind could understand their attitude, they had been cheated of their moment of fame, but Harry was finding it a bit more difficult to. The loss of Ron’s friendship had taken a significant toll on his attitude, and he couldn’t be any poorer at hiding it. 

Ron refused to talk to Harry. Harry refused to talk to Ron. Hermione and Rosalind did their best to bridge the gaps between the two boys, but neither one of them would talk to the other. Rosalind would run into Ron and some of the other Gryffindor boys in the common room, playing rounds of wizards chess or exploding snap. They were always very friendly when it was just Rosalind, often inviting her to join them, but if Harry was with her they would rarely give her even a nod of acknowledgement. 

“You free this evening?” Rosalind grinned as she walked with Harry and Hermione to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“I’m free every evening if it keeps me out of the common room,” Harry huffed, staring across the courtyard to where Cedric was laughing with a large group of students from all four houses. “Why can’t it be just him? He looks more the part than I do.”

“What’s this evening?” Hermione queried, walking faster to block Cedric from Harry’s view.

Rosalind grinned over at her. “Stygian said he’d help teach Harry how to cast a corporeal patronus!”

“Can’t you already make one?” Hermione frowned at Harry.

“I don’t think so…” Harry grumbled, looking down at the ground. “I mean, obviously I made one, but it was mainly thanks to Rosa’s Euphoria Inducing potion.”

“Euphoria what now? Where did you get that?” Hermione asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at Rosalind.

“Marcus Flint,” Rosalind said with a meek smile. “During a party last year.”

“You’re crazy,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Harry, you can’t go today. We have to write eight inches of parchment for Snape.”

“Could you do it for me, Hermione?” Harry begged as they neared the door to Defense Against the Dark Arts. “I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

“Alright,” Hermione grumbled, sticking her wand behind her ear. “But only if you two promise to practice summoning charms. We’re getting tested on them tomorrow.”

“Definitely,” Rosalind grinned, elbowing Harry in the side. “You ready to cast that stag again?”

“Are you ready to fail at casting a patronus again?” Harry shot back, a small grin on his face as he elbowed her back. 

“You two are insufferable,” Hermione groaned, breaking up their elbowing and leading them into the classroom.

Rosalind and Harry didn’t return to the common room after dinner. Instead, they worked on their homework with Neville and Hermione in the far corner of their table in the Great Hall. Neville helped Rosalind with her write up on the repotting process of a young snargaluff plant, excitedly telling her all about the pods that could be gathered once the plant was fully grown. 

She half payed attention, eyes wandering knowingly to the silver moth perched on the edge of her inkwell. Its curly antenna twitched at her, the circles around its eyes following Rosalind as she scribbled down hurriedly what Neville was telling her.

“But… what does that have to do with repotting?” Rosalind asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, nothing,” Neville said sheepishly, his cheeks turning red. “I just can’t wait till Professor Sprout finally lets me have a go at pod harvesting.”

“Good to see you excited about school, Neville,” Hermione encouraged, smiling at him.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Neville smiled back. “Somehow I’ve never managed to make a mess of Herbology.”

“I’ve never managed not to make a mess of a school year,” Harry grumbled, angrily dipping his hardened quill into his inkpot.

“Oh no, look at me,” Rosalind grumbled, slouching mockingly over her parchment. “I’m Harry Potter and my permanent residence is the depths of despair.”

Neville gave a laugh as Harry gave Rosalind an offended scoff, crumpling up the parchment in front of him and throwing it at her. She deflected it easily with her hand, laughing as it bounced off and entangled itself in Hermione’s hair. 

“Honestly, you guys,” Hermione huffed, pawing at the balled up parchment. 

“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Rosalind said sheepishly, helping untangle the parchment from her curly hair. 

“When is Stygian going to get here?” Harry sighed, glancing impatiently over at the Slytherin table. 

“Oh, he’s been here a while,” Rosalind grinned, looking knowingly down at the moth by her inkwell. 

“What?” Harry jumped out of his seat, looking around the table. “Where?”

Rosalind laughed knowingly and packed up her schoolbag. The moth that had been perched by her inkwell flew up in front of her and began to flutter towards the entrance to the hall.

“Come on!” Rosalind laughed, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him after the fluttering moth. Students from the other houses glared at them as the pair wove through the crowd, Harry tailing Rosalind and Rosalind chasing the moth, until they broke out of the Great Hall and into the cold hallway. 

“Where are we going?” Harry gasped, catching up to Rosalind as they slid out of the entrance hall.

The moth in front of Rosalind did a somersault in midair and fluttered towards the grand staircase. She grabbed Harry by the hand and pulled him after her, taking the stairs upwards two at a time. They followed the moth past the library till it stopped on the handle of a large, wooden door, rubbing its tiny legs together expectantly.

“Alright,” Rosalind puffed, swinging open the door. 

Inside was an abandoned classroom. Spare desks and chairs were stacked against one wall, covered with large, faded cloths. Watery light streamed in through the weatherworn windows, illuminating the flecks of dust lazily drifting through the air.

“This place is freezing, Styg,” Rosalind huffed, drawing her wand and lighting the torches on the wall with a flick as Harry closed the door behind them.

“Who are you talking to?” Harry asked, wiping the dust off a nearby windowsill and setting down his bags.

Rosalind pointed at the moth, which was fluttering in circles in the air. Harry gave a startled jump as it landed on the floor of the classroom, growing up and out until Stygian was standing on all fours, looking slightly smug.

“Y-you’re an animagus?” Harry gasped, pushing his glasses up his nose as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Rosalind cautioned, grabbing Harry by the arm. “He’s not exactly… registered. Like Siri… Padfoot.”

“Y-you’re an animagus,” Harry repeated slowly, shaking his head as if he were trying to get rid of the shocked expression on his face.

“Rosa would be too if she hadn’t gotten herself knocked out by the whomping willow,” Stygian teased, drawing his wand from his pocket.

“Really?” Harry looked over at Rosalind curiously. “Would you have been a moth, too?”

“I hope not,” Rosalind laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine anything more lame.”

Stygian gave an offended scoff and elbowed her in the side. “I bet yours would have been a salmon.”

“An aggressive salmon,” Rosalind laughed, elbowing him back.

“If you’re aggressive, then it better be a barracuda,” Stygian snorted, rolling his eyes towards Harry.

“Or a shark,” Harry said with a knowing grin at Rosalind.

She gave a growl and bashed her teeth at him in response.

Stygian grinned and pointed his wand at the two of them. “Well, once you learn to cast your patronus, we’ll find out what you could be.”

“Actually, a patronus isn’t always indicative of a wizards animagus form,” Rosalind corrected him perkily. “Where the animagus is a reflection of your true self, your patronus can change depending on several external factors that influence your psyche over time. For exampl-”

“Silencio!” Stygian pointed his wand at Rosalind, cutting her off mid sentence and leaving her mouthing noiselessly. “I’m the teacher now, Rosa. Don’t do my job for me.”

Rosalind gave a muted grumble, lifting the charm from herself and waiting for Stygian to continue. 

“Now, Harry.” Stygian tucked his wand behind his ears and crossed his arms. “Show me what you can do.”

Harry took a deep breath, brows furrowing in concentration as he pointed his wand out in front of him.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Immediately, several wisps of silver shot out of the wand and hovered in front in a defensive shield, before fading away.

“Not bad,” Stygian admitted, walking over to Harry. “You need a different happy thought, that one isn’t really working for you. And you need to hold your hand straighter.”

“You did better than I ever could,” Rosalind admitted, smiling at Harry. “Even without a potion.”

“Let’s see you do it,” Stygian grinned down at Rosalind. “No potion at all.”

Rosalind gave a sigh, straightening her back and pointing her wand out in front of her. Scrunching up her eyes, she tried to focus on something happy, something light. 

“Expecto Patronum!”

Wisps of silver light shot out of the end of her wand. They weren’t as bright as the ones Harry had cast, and they faded away much faster, but she was slightly proud that she managed to cast anything in the first place.

Stygian clucked his tongues disappointedly and shook his head. “Again, both of you.”

Harry and Rosalind exchanged disappointed glances and attempted to cast the spell several more times, their results mixed and varying.

“Again, you two,” Stygian sighed after a while of failed practicing, sticking his arm out stiffly in front of him. “Keep your arms straight!”

“I thought you were supposed to stay relaxed when you cast this,” Rosalind huffed, imitating Stygians rigid pose and immediately feeling an uncomfortable twinge run up the muscles in her arm.

“Tell me, either one of you,” Stygian took a step back and looked at the two of them. “Where in your body do you feel happiness?”

Rosalind and Harry exchanged a bewildered glance as Stygian waited expectantly.

“Er, what do you mean?” Harry asked.

“It’s basic science!” Stygian huffed, jabbing at Harry’s chest. “In here! Not just in the heart and soul, but your chest physically gets warm when you feel happy and relaxed! This spell harnesses that energy and uses it to make the Patronus Charm!”

“So, we need to keep our arms straight to make a… a pathway? For the energy?” Rosalind queried, tipping her head to the side.

“Exactly!” Stygian beamed down at Rosalind. “And only a powerful happy thought gives you the energy you need to do that!”

“I think I get it,” Harry piped up, shaking himself loose and pointing his wand out, his posture notably straighter. “Expecto Patronum!”

There was a burst of light so bright that Rosalind and Stygian had to shield their eyes. The light emulating from the end of Harry’s wand spiraled together into the form of a large, silver stag. It reared its head back and pranced around the room, radiating silver light that reflected off of Harry and Stygian’s round glasses.

Harry gave a laugh as he watched the stag, drawing Rosalind's attention over to him. He was smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time since the delegates had arrived, green eyes following his patronus around the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him, feeling warm from head to toe as he smiled back at her.

“Rosa, now!” Stygian urged, grabbing her by her wand arm.

Her hand seemed to raise automatically as she pointed her wand into the air. “Expecto Patronum!”

The light in the room intensified as silver erupted from the end of Rosalind’s wand, entangling in the air till a serpentine head formed, jaws opening to reveal large fangs and a forked tongue. The spines on its back stretched the length of its body, past its enormous wings and two, clawed feet, to the very tip of its incredibly long tail. Despite its imposing build, it was no longer or thicker than Stygian’s arm. It circled the room, chasing the racing stag for a moment and radiating them with silver light.

Rosalind reached up her hand toward the patronus, not believing her eyes. It was a creature she had only read about in books, or rather, one particular book. The patronus gnashed its fangs at Rosalind, winding around her outstretched arm before fading away.

“Wow,” Stygian breathed, stepping up to Rosalind's side. “Was that… what I think it was?”

“What was that?” Harry asked quietly, his own patronus gone from the room.

“It was…” Rosalind tried to answer, but her words caught in her throat as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“A lindworm,” Stygian answered for her, wrapping an arm around Rosalind's shoulders.

Harry didn’t ask any more questions, simply watched as Rosalind self consciously wiped the few tears she had let out from her face and turned to Stygian. 

“Thanks, Styg. You’ve helped a lot.”

Stygian sighed and drew her in for a hug. “You know, this really isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“I’m a moth in spirit and body, and you get a fricken lindworm? So uncool.”

Rosalind laughed and pushed Stygian away. “What, you jealous?”

Stygian gave a small smile. “Only a little.”

The three of them stood in silence for a few moments, searching the dusty air of the classroom for any remaining beam of silver light.

“Well,” Stygian said with a smile over at Harry. “Seems like you’ve figured it out now.”

“Thanks a lot, Stygian,” Harry said with a nod. 

“Feel any more prepared?” Rosalind queried, walking over to Harry and ruffling his hair with one hand. 

“Maybe, kind of, sort of, just a little.” Harry smiled hesitantly and gripped his wand tightly.

“Then my work here is done,” Stygian conceded, walking towards the door. “I’ve got OWL’s to study for, you kids have fun.”

“Thank you, Styg!” Rosalind called after her brother. 

He turned to give her a wink before sliding out into the stone corridor, and walking away.

Rosalind stood in the middle of the dusty room, gazing up at where the lindworm had faded from sight. She was slightly aware of Harry slowly moving closer to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“You alright?” He asked hesitantly.

“It’s a lindworm,” Rosalind said with a sigh, absentmindedly playing with a strand of her curly hair.

“Rosa… what’s a lindworm?”

Rosalind gave a small laugh, turning to look at Harry. “It’s a type of dragon, Harry.”

“Makes sense,” Harry said with a smirk. “After all, you’re so… fiery.”

Rosalind let out a laugh, turning away from Harry so he wouldn’t be able to see how red her cheeks were growing.

“There’s more to this story,” Harry persisted, grabbing hold of Rosalind's arm.

“I don’t think you’ve leveled up enough on my friendship scale to unlock that,” Rosalind scoffed, jerking her arm away.

“Come on,” Harry pleaded, darting around her so that they were facing each other once again. “My stag? That’s my dad's animagus form, and him patronus. My happy memory comes from my dad.”

Smiling softly at the memory of the two patronuses, Rosalind looked down at her feet. “Well, so does mine.”

Harry took a step back, his face lighting up in surprise. “What? How?”

Rosalind groaned and put her hands over her face, taking a deep breath before running them back through her hair. “Well, Stygian used to read me this book, this story… Prince Lindworm. It’s a Norwegian tale muggles don’t realize was influenced by the witch,  Kirsti Sørensdatter . Stygian got the book from our dad for his christening, and he gave it to me when we were kids. It’s all we’ve ever gotten from our father.”

Harry nodded, not speaking for a moment. They stood in dusty silence for a minute, both seemingly looking down at their feet.

“So… you got that wicked dragon. How is Stygian a moth?” Harry spoke up, breaking the silence.

Rosalind couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Oh, Merlin, I couldn’t answer that even if I wanted to.”

Harry broke into a grin. “So… back to the common room?”

“Nuh uh,” Rosalind said as she whipped back around and pointed her wand at Harry. “We promised Hermione we’d practice summoning charms.”

Harry gave a groan. “But it’s almost curfew, we can’t be caught out of the common room after hours.”

“You’re a filthy hypocrite, you know that?” Rosalind scoffed, shoving him in the side. “You do it all the time!”

“But I… I don’t want to.” Harry looked down at Rosalind with a bemused expression on his face. “Come on, we don’t really have to practice them.”

“What if you need it for the tournament, huh?” Rosalind leaned over and flicked Harry on the nose. “You want to be the flimsy fourth year who can’t even perform a summoning charm?”

“No,” Harry sighed, reluctantly drawing his wand. “I guess you’ve given me no choice.”

Rosalind smiled sweetly at him. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Potter? I’m always right.”

“I know, Black. I know.”


End file.
